CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 


CHARLES    STEWART    PARNELL 

Taken  in  the  sitting-room  at  W.-nersh  Lodge,  Eltham,  by  Mrs.  Parnell 


CHARLES  STEWART 
PARNELL 

His  Love  Story  and  Political  Life 


BY 

KATHARINE  O'SHEA 

(Mrs.  Charles  Stewart  Parnell) 


**  No  common  soul  was  his;  for  good  or  ill 
There  was  a  mighty  power." 

Hawksh AW  — Sonnet  IX 


of 


Volume  One 


New  York 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN   COMPANY 


BUSTON  COLLEGE  LlBUAKY 
CHESTNUT  HILL,  MASS. 


r- 


Copyright,  191 4y 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


^  i-  Ci  i*^.  5" 

w  ai  fj  n 


yNEIli  LIBRARY 
JOSTON  COLLEGE 


STOfi  mim.  imm 


DEC   0  -3  1890 


DEDICATED 

TO 

LOVE 

*'  Had  the  whole  rich  world  been  in  my  power, 
I  should  have  singled  out  thee,  only  thee, 
From  the  whole  world's  collected  treasury." 

MOORE. 


PREFACE 

On  October  6th,  1891,  nearly  twenty-three  years  ago, 
Charles  Stewart  Parnell  died  in  the  arms  of  his  wife; 
nearly  twenty-three  years  ago  the  whole  of  the  civilised 
world  awoke  to  laud  —  or  to  condemn  —  the  dead  chief. 
It  ranked  him  with  the  greatest  heroes,  or  with  the  vilest 
sinners,  of  the  world,  because  he  had  found  and  kept 
the  haven  of  her  arms  with  absolute  disregard  of  that 
world's  praise  or  blame  till  death,  the  only  power  greater 
than  the  love  that  held  him  there,  tore  him  from  them. 

And  then  the  hate  that  followed  him  to  the  grave 
turned  to  the  woman  he  had  loved,  to  vent  upon  her  its 
baffled  spleen;  not  considering  that  such  a  man  as  he 
would  keep  the  heart  of  his  wife  as  closely  in  death  as 
he  had  kept  it  in  life;  so  closelj^  that  none  could  come 
near  it;  so  secretly  that  none  could  find  the  way  to  plant 
therein  a  sting.  And  so  for  these  more  than  twenty- 
two  years,  I,  his  wife,  have  lived  upon  memories  so  happy 
and  so  precious  that,  after  time  had  brought  back  some 
meaning  to  my  life,  I  took  a  certain  pleasure  in  reading 
all  men  had  to  say  of  him  whom  they  so  little  knew.  I 
have  found  many  things  in  these  books  that  made  me 
smile  or  made  me  sad.  There  were  the  writers  who  looked 
at  him  obliquely,  and  wrote  that  he  was  crooked,  or 
from  below,  and  exclaimed  on  his  want  of  perspective, 
or  from  any  and  every  point  of  view  but  that  of  an  honest 
directness  which  is,  after  all,  the  only  point  of  view  whence 
ordinary  men  can  truly  observe  a  great  one.     Yet,  never 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

in  all  the  "lives,"  "articles,"  or  "appreciations"  that  I 
have  read  has  there  been  one  that  could  say  —  or  one 
that  desired  to  say  —  that  Parnell  was  not  a  man  who 
stands  out  sharp  and  clear  from  other  men  for  good 
or  ill. 

But  now,  after  all  these  years,  one  of  Parnell's  erst- 
while followers  has  arisen  to  explain  to  another  genera- 
tion that  Parnell  was  not  really  such  a  man  as  this,  that 
he  was  one  of  Ireland's  eternal  failures.  One  who  held 
her  dear  indeed,  but  one  who  balanced  her  welfare  against 
the  clutches  of  a  light  o'  love  with  all  the  foolishness  of 
callow  degeneracy,  so  fondly  imagined  chivalry  by  the 
weak.  Not  a  man  who  gave  his  country  his  whole  life, 
and  found  the  peace  and  courage  of  that  life  in  the  heart 
of  the  woman  he  loved.  No,  that  is  how  a  man  lives 
and  loves,  whether  in  secret  or  before  the  whole  world. 
That  is  how  Parnell  lived  and  loved,  and  now  after  these 
long  years  I  break  my  silence  lest  the  unmanly  echo  of 
excuse  given  forth  by  Mr.  O'Brien  in  an  age  that  loves 
excuse  may  cling  about  the  name  of  the  man  I  loved. 
It  is  a  very  poignant  pain  to  me  to  give  to  the  world 
any  account  of  the  sacred  happiness  of  eleven  years  of 
my  life  and  of  the  agony  of  sorrow  that  once  seemed  too 
great  to  bear;  but  I  have  borne  it,  and  I  am  so  near  him 
now  that  I  fear  to  leave  near  the  name  of  that  proud 
spirit  the  taint  of  excuse  that  he  loathed. 

Parnell  never  posed  as  "rather  the  victim  than  the 
destroyer  of  a  happy  home,"  as  Mr.  O'Brien  suggested 
in  the  Cork  Free  Press  of  last  year,  and  he  maintained 
to  the  last  day  of  his  life  that  he  suffered  no  "dishonour 
and  discredit"  in  making  the  woman  he  loved  his 
own. 

And  because  Parnell  contravened  certain  social  laws, 
not  regarding  them  as  binding  him  in  any  way,  and  be- 


PREFACE  ix 

cause  I  joined  him  in  this  contravention  since  his  love 
made  all  else  of  no  account  to  me,  we  did  not  shrink  at  the 
clamour  of  the  upholders  of  those  outraged  laws,  nor  re- 
sent the  pressing  of  the  consequences  that  were  inevitable 
and  always  foreseen.  The  freedom  of  choice  we  had  our- 
selves claimed  we  acknowledged  for  others,  and  were 
wise  enough  to  smile  if,  in  some  instances,  the  greatness 
of  our  offence  was  loudly  proclaimed  by  those  who  he 
knew  lived  in  a  freedom  of  love  more  varied  than  our 
own.  For  the  hypocrisy  of  those  statesm.en  and  poli- 
ticians who,  knowing  for  ten  years  that  Parnell  was  my 
lover,  had  with  the  readiest  tact  and  utmost  courtesy 
accepted  the  fact  as  making  a  sure  and  safe  channel  of 
communication  with  him;  whom  they  knew  as  a  force  to 
be  placated;  those  who,  when  the  time  came  to  stand 
by  him,  in  order  to  give  Ireland  the  benefits  they  had 
promised  him  for  her,  repudiated  him,  from  under  the 
cloak  of  the  religion  they  thereby  forswore;  he,  and  I 
with  him,  felt  a  contempt  unspeakable.  Twenty-four 
years  ago,  as  I  write  this,  I  said  to  Parnell:  "You  are 
fighting  for  Ireland's  freedom,  but  —  she  hugs  her  chains." 
And  still  she  hugs  her  chains,  and  will  hug  them,  for  she 
killed  the  subtle  brain  and  steadfast  heart  that  alone  could 
free  her.  For  Parnell  knew  the  Irish  people,  knew  how 
to  support  their  unstability,  how  to  guide  their  fervent 
patriotism,  how  to  lead  the  uplifting  of  a  spirit  long 
cowed  but  never  subdued. 

And,  as  he  knew  them,  so  he  loved  them,  and  had  he 
lived  one  dreams  that  Ireland  might,  long  years  ago, 
have  come  into  her  own,  the  honoured  mother  of  her 
nobler  sons,  who,  no  longer  sent  forth  to  toil  for  other 
nations,  should  spend  themselves  in  her  service  to  earn 
for  her  a  name  that  should  no  longer  be  a  byword  and  a 
sneer  among  the  Nations. 


X  PREFACE 

In  this  book  I  am  giving  to  the  public  letters  so  sacred 
to  my  lover  and  myself  that  no  eyes  other  than  our  own 
should  ever  have  seen  them,  but  that  my  son  was  jealous 
for  his  father's  honour,  and  that  I  would  not  my  lover's 
life  should  seem  in  these  softer  days  a  lesser  thing,  beset 
with  fears  and  indecisions  that  he  did  not  know.  I  have 
lived  in  those  eleven  years  of  Parnell's  love  so  constantly 
that  nothing  has  been  lost  to  me  of  them,  and  the  few 
details  of  them  that  I  give  will  show  a  little  of  what 
manner  of  man  he  was,  while  still  I  keep  for  my 
own  heart  so  much  that  none  shall  ever  know  but  he 
and  I. 

That  part  of  the  book  dealing  with  the  earlier  stages 
of  my  life  I  had  no  idea  of  writing  till  it  was  suggested 
and  urged  upon  me  by  my  children.  This  chronicle  of 
uneventful  years  was  easy  to  me,  for  I  have  told  it  as  I 
used  to  tell  it  to  Parnell  when  he  wished  to  rest  from 
political  talk  and  consideration.  It  will  be  of  little  inter- 
est to  the  general  public  except  as  showing  the  finger  of 
Fate  pointing  down  the  path  that  led  me  to  him. 

In  regard  to  the  political  aspect  of  the  book,  those 
who  know  the  Irish  history  of  those  days  will  under- 
stand. My  lover  was  the  leader  of  a  nation  in  revolt, 
and,  as  I  could,  I  helped  him  as  "King's  Messenger" 
to  the  Government  in  office.  It  has  been  erroneously 
said  by  some  of  the  Irish  Party  that  I  "inspired"  certain 
measures  of  his,  and  biased  him  in  various  ways  politi- 
cally. Those  who  have  said  so  did  not  know  the  man, 
for  Parnell  was  before  all  a  statesman;  absolutely  con- 
vinced of  his  policy  and  of  his  ability  to  carry  that  policy 
to  its  logical  conclusion.  Self-reliant  and  far-seeing,  the 
master  of  his  own  mind. 

I  was  never  a  "political  lady,"  and,  apart  from  him, 
I  have  never  felt  the  slightest  interest  in  politics,  either 


PREFACE  xi 

Irish  or  English,  and  I  can  honestly  say  that  except 
for  urging  him  to  make  terms  with  the  Government  in 
order  to  obtain  his  liberation  from  prison,  I  did  not  once 
throughout  those  eleven  years  attempt  to  use  my  in- 
fluence over  him  to  "bias"  his  public  life  or  politics;  nor, 
being  convinced  that  his  opinions  and  measures  were  the 
only  ones  worth  consideration,  was  I  even  tempted  to  do 
so.  In  my  many  interviews  with  Mr.  Gladstone  I  w^as 
Parnell's  messenger,  and  in  all  other  work  I  did  for  him 
it  was  understood  on  both  sides  that  I  worked  for  Parnell 
alone. 

Katharine  Parnell. 
Brighton,  April,  1914. 

The  following  letter  appeared  in  The  Times  of  Sept. 
10,  1913:  — 

Sir,  —  As  the  only  son  of  the  late  Captain  William 
Henry  O'Shea,  I  must  protest  against  the  scandalous 
insinuations  contained  in  statements  made  by  a  Mr. 
William  O'Brien  to  the  Cork  Free  Press,  and  which  were 
reproduced  by  you  in  your  issue  of  Monday  last.  I 
had  never  heard  of  Mr.  William  O'Brien  until  I  saw  the 
paragraph  of  which  I  complain.  Mr.  O'Brien's  claim 
to  speak  with  authority  upon  the  O'Shea  v.  Parnell  case, 
about  which  he  has  no  inside  knowledge,  appears  to 
rest  upon  his  assertion  that  he  received  two  short  notes 
from  the  late  Mr.  Parnell. 

The  deduction  drawn  by  Mr.  William  O'Brien,  "  The 
Irish  leader  would  have  been  shown  to  be  rather  a  vic- 
tim than  a  destroyer  of  a  happy  home,  and  the  divorce 
would  never  have  taken  place,"  is  a  slander  upon  my 
late  father  and  my  mother,  and  absolutely  without  foun- 
dation. 


xii  PREFACE 

I  have  written  to  my  mother  (now  the  widow  of  the 
late  Mr.  C.  S.  Parnell)  upon  the  subject,  and  she  repHes:  — 

"WiUiam  O'Brien,  of  whom  you  ask,  was  a  member  of 
the  Irish  Party  under  Mr.  Parnell's  leadership.  I  quite 
agree  with  you  as  to  the  insult  to  myself,  your  father's 
memory,  and,  above  all,  to  my  late  husband,  Mr.  Par- 
nell, that  is  contained  in  the  unwarrantable  interpreta- 
tion Mr.  O'Brien  has  put  upon  the  letter  of  my  husband's 
lie  lias  published,  and  I  now  propose,  with  your  consent, 
to  publish  as  soon  as  possible  myself  the  letters  of  my 
late  husband,  which,  as  you  know,  I  had  left  directions 
should  be  published  after  my  death." 

I  may  say  that  the  letters  to  which  my  mother  refers 
constitute  an  absolute  refutation  of  the  allegations  pub- 
lished by  Mr.  William  O'Brien. 

I  have  instructed  my  solicitors,  Messrs.  Henry  Hil- 
bery  and  Son,  to  write  to  Mr.  William  O'Brien,  care  of 
the  Cork  Free  Press. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

Gerard  H.  W.  O'Shea. 
Hotel  Metwpole, 
Brighton, 

Sept.  9,  1913. 


[Facsimile  of  letter  on  p.  212.] 


/s-" 


Am^  ^ 


/My 


Xlll 


^^fef  'Wv,  eo'iA.  V<4t^  ^ 


XIV 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

Preface 

1.  My  Early  Life 

2.  Family  Life  at  Rivenhall 

3.  Visitors  at  Rivenhall 

4.  Private  Theatricals 

5.  A  Memory  of  Brighton 

6.  My  Father's  Death 

7.  My  Marriage    . 

8.  Life  in  Madrid 

9.  Our  Home  at  Bennington 

10.  A  Day  on  the  Downs 

11.  Beaufort  Gardens     . 

12.  More  Financial  Difficulties 

13.  Captain  O'Shea  Enters  Political  Life 

14.  Mr.  Parnell  and  the  Irish  Party 

15.  The  First  Meeting  with  Mr.  Parnell 

16.  Early  Correspondence 

17.  At  Eltham  ..... 

18.  The  Land  League  Trials 

19.  Parliamentary  Associations 


Vll 

1 
10 
17 

26 
35 

42 

48 

5Q 

66 

79 

87 

94 

101 

117 

123 

133 

138 

148 

161 


XV 


XVI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

20.  Hobbies  and  a  Challenge 

21.  Astronomy  and  "Sedition" 

22.  The  Arrest  of  Parnell    . 

23.  KiLMAINHAM   DaYS 

24.  More  Kilmainham  Letters 

25.  The  "Kilmainham  Treaty" 
«  26.  The  Phcenix  Park  Murders  and  After 


PAGE 

169 
179 
190 
196 
215 
235 
247 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Frontispiece 


Charles  Stewart  Parnell 
Facsimile  of  Letter  on  Page  212  . 

RiVENHALL  Place     ..... 

Captain  O'Shea  as  a  Cornet  in  the  18th  Hussars      44 

Mrs.  Parnell  in  1873 90 


Xlll,  XIV 

FACING  PAGE 

14 


WoNERSH  Lodge,  North  Park,  Eltham 
Mr.  Parnell  in  1880 
Lucy  Goldsmith       .... 
Mr.  Parnell  in  1881 


114 
130 
134 
170 


Claude  Sophie:  Born  Feb.  15,  1882;  Died  Apr.  21, 

1882 232 


xvii 


CHARLES    STEWART    PARNELL 

HIS  LOVE  STORY  AND  POLITICAL  LIFE 

CHAPTER  I 

MY    EARLY     LIFE 

''Go  forth;  and  if  it  be  o'er  stoney  loay 

Old  Joy  can  lend  what  newer  grief  must  borrow. 
And  it  was  sweet,  and  that  xvas  yesterday. 

And  sweet  is  sweet,  though  purchased  with  sorrow. '^ 

F.  Thompson. 

As  a  child  I  used  to  waken  to  the  dawn  growing  slowly 
into  day,  when  the  mist  was  rising  from  the  lake,  and 
floating  in  soft  clouds  through  the  trees  which  overhung 
the  water.  I  heard  the  faint,  uncertain  call  of  the  wild 
duck  as  they  alighted  and  the  flapping  of  the  wings  of 
the  half-awakened  swans.  Then  came  the  soft  swish- 
ing of  the  cart  horses,  as  they  stood  in  the  water  to  drink 
before  beginning  the  day's  work,  and  I  listened  with 
delicious  fear  in  the  glooin,  wondering  if  it  would  be  safe 
to  creep  downstairs  without  waking  anyone,  and  out 
under  the  great  trees  where  the  sun  was  beginning  to  tip 
the  golden  leaves;  then  on  over  the  bridge  to  the  other 
side  of  the  lake  to  feed  the  swans.  I  was  over  the  bridge 
before  I  had  ceased  wondering.  On  I  would  go  in  the 
spirit  of  glorious  adventure,  as  fast  as  my  little  fat  legs 
could  carry  me  through  the  white  gate  into  the  cornfields, 
and  beyond  the  yellow  corn  stacked  into  sheaves.     Then 

1 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

I  used  to  fill  the  skirt  of  my  short  red  frock  with  ears  of 
wheat,  and  take  it  to  two  old  friends  of  mine  who  were 
too  feeble  to  glean  for  themselves.  They  lived  in  tiny 
cottages  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  always  rewarded  my 
labours  with  ripe  bullaces  from  their  little  garden. 

These  old  people  and  the  farmer  were  great  friends  of 
mine,  and  the  latter  always  promised  them  that  all  "Miss 
Katie"  could  glean  should  be  sent  by  him  to  the  miller 
to  grind  for  them. 

My  life  was  always  very  full  as  a  little  girl,  and  the 
days  passed  very  quickly. 

As  I  was  a  delicate  child  I  was  kept  out  of  doors  as 
much  as  possible,  and  as  soon  as  I  was  old  enough  to 
carry  them  I  was  allowed  to  go  to  fetch  the  letters  before 
breakfast  from  the  little  post  office  half  a  mile  away. 
The  Rivenhall  curate  was  a  great  friend  of  mine,  and  I 
used  to  insist  upon  collecting  his  letters  also,  and  turn- 
ing in  for  a  chat  with  him  —  should  I  find  him  in  his 
garden.  The  reproach  of  my  waiting  elders  on  my  re- 
turn used  to  puzzle  me  till  my  father  explained  that  while 
he  and  I  liked  our  breakfast  better  than  our  letters, 
grown-up  ladies  wanted  their  letters  much  more  than 
their  breakfast. 

My  father  was  my  dear  companion  and  friend  always, 
and  to  him  I  took  all  my  little  troubles  and  griefs  and 
all  my  joys.  Long  before  I  could  do  more  than  just  hold 
the  two  reins  he  used  to  let  me  drive  him  to  and  from 
his  church  at  Cressing,  where  the  clerk  stood  ready  to  lift 
me  down,  and  pat  old  Prince  for  having  trotted  so  quickly 
in  my  charge. 

Those  were  the  days  of  high  pews,  and  while  my  father 
went  to  the  vestry  I  used  to  amuse  myself  in  peeping 
over  the  top  to  watch  the  people  coming  in,  and  the  old 
dame  who  kept  the  village  school  sorting  out  the  children 

2 


MY   EARLY  LIFE 

as  they  clambered  and  clattered  up  into  the  gallery. 
This  old  lad}^  was  a  quaint  figure,  in  an  enormous  poke 
bonnet  and  voluminous  cloak.  She  wore  her  hair  tightly 
banded  each  side  of  her  gaunt  face,  and  on  Sundays  was 
always  armed  with  a  long  cane,  with  which  she  "settled" 
the  school  children  into  their  places  by  administering  a 
sharp  tap  to  each  one  as  he  or  she  subsided  into  a  seat 
—  and  decorum. 

Then  the  organ  emitted  a  wheezy  gasp  as  my  fatlier 
came  in,  and  a  jerky  voluntary  was  played,  while  old 
Jim  K.,  the  clerk,  marked  the  places  in  the  books  in  the 
pulpit  and  in  his  own  book.  This  functionary  always 
sat  at  a  desk  just  under  the  pulpit,  and  said  "Amen" 
at  intervals.  I  always  thought  it  so  clever  of  him  to 
know  the  right  times,  and  felt  great  respect  for  his,  to 
me,  extraordinary  perspicacity,  and  also  for  the  fact  that 
he  wore  a  surplice,  or,  as  I  thought,  an  outside  shirt, 
like  my  father's,  only  "littler";  but  then,  of  course,  he 
was  a  "littler"  man. 

I  used  to  get  very  bored  during  the  litany,  and  had 
to  relieve  my  weariness  in  speculations  on  the  carved 
stone  figures,  lying  side  by  side,  of  a  former  lord  of  the 
manor  and  his  dame,  representing  to  after  ages  the  de- 
votion of  their  lives  together,  but  to  my  childish  mind 
merely  suggesting  a  vague  wonder  that  the  stift'-frilled 
collars  they  wore  had  not  killed  them  before  they  had 
grown  so  old  and  dilapidated. 

Meanwhile  my  wandering  thoughts  were  jerked  back 
to  the  business  in  hand  by  my  father's  sonorous  "Let 
us  pray."  Jim  stuck  his  head  into  his  book,  my  father's 
sank  into  the  pulpit,  and  I  collapsed  on  to  the  seat,  and 
meditated  on  the  probable  number  of  bull's-eyes  the 
penny  I  was  clasping  so  tightly  in  my  hot  hand  might 
procure  from  the  old  body  in  the  village  who  kept  a  few 

3 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

sweets  in  her  window,  and  had  no  objection  to  trading 
on  Sunday. 

My  father  had  an  excellent  rule  that  twenty  minutes 
was  the  utmost  length  of  time  anyone  should  be  expected 
to  listen  to  a  sermon,  but,  as  I  had  little  idea  of  time, 
I  used  to  listen  anxiously  for  the  rise  and  fall  of  his  voice 
from  the  opening  sentences;  for  I  had  early  learnt  that 
his  voice  would  fall  as  he  neared  the  final  exhortation. 
There  was  a  reverent  hush  for  the  blessing,  and  then, 
while  the  people  clustered  together  outside  to  "pass  the 
time  of  day"  with  Sir  John,  I  would  run  as  hard  as  I 
could  to  capture  my  sweets  before  I  was  lifted  into  the 
high  four-wheeled  dogcart  to  drive  my  father  home. 

My  brothers  and  sisters  were  all  so  much  older  than 
myself  —  most  of  them  married,  with  children  of  their 
own  —  and  my  mother  was  so  absorbed  in  her  brilliant 
boy  Evelyn,  the  affairs  of  her  elder  daughters  and  her 
own  literary  work,  that  had  it  not  been  for  my  father  I 
should  have  been  a  very  lonely  child. 

My  father,  Sir  John  Page  Wood,  was  descended  from 
the  Woods  of  Tiverton,  and  was  the  eldest  of  the  three 
sons  of  Sir  Matthew  Wood,  Baronet,  of  Hatherley  House, 
Gloucestershire.  He  was  educated  at  Winchester  and 
at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  and  after  entering  into 
holy  orders,  before  he  was  twenty-four  years  of  age,  was 
appointed  private  chaplain  and  secretary  to  Queen  Caro- 
line, performing  the  last  offices  for  her  at  her  death  in 
1820,  and  attending  her  body  to  its  final  resting-place 
in  Brunswick.  He  then  became  chaplain  to  the  Duke 
of  Sussex,  and  in  1824  was  appointed  by  the  Corpora- 
tion of  London  to  the  rectory  of  St.  Peter's,  Cornhill. 

In  1820  my  father  married  Emma  Caroline,  the  young- 
est of  the  three  daughters  of  Admiral  Michell  (and  my 

4 


MY  EARLY  LIFE 

father's  uncle,  Benjamin  Wood,  M.  P.  for  Southwark  at 
the  time,  married  the  second  daughter  Maria,  the  "Aunt 
Ben"  of  this  book).  My  mother  was  born  in  Lisbon, 
her  father  being  Admiral  of  the  Portuguese  Navy.  Of 
her  two  brothers  one  became  Admiral  (Sir  Frederick 
Michell,  K.  C.  B.)  in  the  British  Navy,  and  the  other, 
Charles  Michell,  became  Colonel  of  the  Royal  Engineers. 

She  was  married  at  the  age  of  eighteen  to  my  father, 
who  was  still  at  Cambridge,  and  the  improvident  young 
pair  found  it  extremely  difficult  to  live  on  the  very  small 
allowance  that  was  considered  sufficient  for  my  father  at 
college.  They  appear  to  have  been  very  happy  notwith- 
standing their  difficulties,  which  were  augmented  a  year 
later  by  the  birth  of  a  son;  and  while  my  father  became 
"coach"  to  young  men  of  slower  wit,  my  mother,  who 
was  extremely  talented  with  her  brush,  cheerfully  turned 
her  beautiful  miniature  painting  to  account  for  the  benefit 
of  her  young  husband  and  son.  She  soon  became  an 
exhibitor  of  larger  works  in  London,  and  the  brothers 
Finden  engraved  several  of  her  pictures. 

She  and  my  father  seem  to  have  idolised  their  first 
child,  "Little  John,"  and  his  early  death,  at  about  four 
years  old,  was  their  first  real  sorrow.  The  boy  was  too 
precocious,  and  when  he  was  three  years  old  his  proud 
young  parents  were  writing  "he  can  read  well  now,  and 
is  getting  on  splendidly  with  his  Latin!" 

Constable,  the  artist,  was  a  friend  of  my  mother's, 
who  thought  highly  of  her  work,  and  gave  her  much  en- 
couragement, and  the  young  people  seem  to  have  had 
no  lack  of  friends  in  the  world  of  art  and  letters.  Of 
my  mother,  Charles  Sheridan  said  he  "delighted  in  her 
sparkling  sallies,"  and  the  young  Edwin  Landseer  was 
"mothered"  by  her  to  his  "exceeding  comfort." 

My   mother   was   appointed    bedchamber   woman   to 

5 


CHARLES   STEWART  PARNELL 

Queen  Caroline,  and  became  very  fond  of  her.  The 
consort  of  George  IV.  appears  to  have  taken  the  great- 
est interest  in  "Little  John,"  and  I  had  until  a  short 
time  ago  —  when  it  was  stolen  —  a  little  workbox  con- 
taining a  half-finished  sock  the  Queen  was  knitting  for 
the  little  boy  when  her  fatal  illness  began. 

My  parents  then  lived  in  London  for  some  years  while 
my  father  did  duty  at  St.  Peter's.  In  1832  my  father 
became  vicar  of  Cressing,  in  Essex,  and  he  took  my 
mother  and  their  (I  think  three)  children  there,  leaving 
a  curate  in  charge  of  St.  Peter's.  Thirteen  children  in 
all  were  born  to  my  parents  (of  whom  I  was  the  thir- 
teenth), and  of  my  brothers  and  sisters  there  were  seven 
living  at  the  time  of  my  birth. 

There  was  little  room  for  all  these  young  people  in 
the  vicarage  at  Cressing,  and  it  was  so  extremely  damp 
as  to  be  unhealthy;  so  my  parents  moved  to  Glazenwood, 
a  charming  house  with  the  most  beautiful  gardens  I  have 
ever  seen  in  a  place  of  moderate  size.  I  think  my  brother 
Fred  died  here;  but  my  first  memories  are  of  Rivenhall, 
where  my  parents  moved  soon  after  my  birth.  Riven- 
hall  Place  belonged  to  a  friend  of  my  father's.  Sir  Thomas 
Sutton  Weston,  of  Felix  Hall.  The  beautiful  old  place 
was  a  paradise  for  growing  children,  and  the  space  and 
beauty  of  this  home  of  my  youth  left  me  with  a  sad  dis- 
taste for  the  little  houses  of  many  conveniences  that  it 
has  been  my  lot  to  inhabit  for  the  greater  part  of  my 
life. 

My  father  was  a  tall,  handsome  old  man  with  merry 
blue  eyes  and  a  ready  smile.  He  had  a  cheery  word  for 
all,  a  gentle  wit  that  never  found  pleasure  in  another's 
discomfiture,  and  a  natural  dignity  that  kept  him  his 
friends  and  made  no  enemies.  He  troubled  himself  not 
at  all  about  the  differences  between  religious  parties. 

6 


MY   EARLY  LIFE 

Highly  cultivated  as  he  was,  he  possessed  the  unques- 
tioning piety  of  a  child  and  the  simplicity  of  faith  that 
"thinketh  no  evil"  and  loveth  all  good. 

In  pohtics  he  was  a  thoroughgoing  Whig,  and  as  he 
was  an  able  and  fluent  speaker,  and  absolutel^^  fearless 
in  his  utterances,  he  became  a  great  influence  in  the 
county  during  election  times.  I  remember,  when  he 
was  to  speak  at  a  political  meeting,  how  he  laughed  as 
he  tied  me  up  in  enormous  orange  ribbons  and  made  me 
drive  him  there,  and  how  immensely  proud  of  him  I  was 
(though,  of  course,  I  could  not  understand  a  word  of  it 
all)  as  he  spoke  so  persuasively  that  howls  and  ribald 
cries  turned  to  cheers  for  "Sir  John's  man." 

When  he  went  to  London  to  "take  duty"  at  St.  Peter's, 
Cornhill,  he  and  I  used  to  stay  at  the  Green  Dragon, 
Bishopsgate  Street.  There  was  a  beautiful  old  court- 
yard to  this  hotel  with  a  balcony,  overhung  with  creepers, 
running  all  round  the  upper  rooms.  I  loved  this  place, 
and  when  I  was  too  young  to  care  much  for  the  long 
service  and  sermons,  I  was  quite  content  that  my  father 
should  tuck  me  up  safely  in  bed  before  going  to  even- 
song at  St.  Peter's. 

Sometimes  I  was  not  well  enough  to  go  to  London 
with  him,  and  on  these  occasions  comforted  myself 
as  much  as  possible  with  a  compensating  interest  in 
the  habits  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Grosse,  who  took  my 
father's  place  at  Cressing. 

The  Rev.  Thomas  Grosse  was  tall,  and  the  possessor 
of  an  enormous  "presence";  he  had  black  curhng  hair 
and  tiny,  black,  beady  eyes.  He  was  a  very  intellect- 
ual man,  but  did  not  understand  a  village  congrega- 
tion, and  many  were  the  complaints  to  me  of  "Miss 
Katie,  when's  our  Sir  John  a-coming  home  to  we.^  Us 
don'  unnerstand  a  word  parson  says."     I  used  to  point 

7 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

out  to  them  that  he  had  a  lovely  way  of  turning  round. 
Of  an  enormous  weight,  he  used  to  pirouette  round 
on  one  foot  as  lightly  as  a  girl.  But  this  never  seemed 
to  appeal  to  the  villagers  as  it  did  to  me.  He  was, 
however,  very  good  and  kind  to  me,  and  in  the  summer 
evenings,  when  he  knew  I  was  missing  my  father,  he 
would  take  me  out  to  look  for  glow-worms,  and  show 
me  the  stars,  teaching  me  the  names  of  the  planets. 
Years  afterwards  the  knowledge  I  thus  gained  became 
a  great  happiness  to  me,  as  I  taught  Mr.  Parnell  all  I 
knew  of  astronomy,  and  opened  up  to  him  a  new  world 
of  absorbing  interest. 

About  this  time  I  was  threatened  with  delicacy  of 
heart  and  lungs,  and,  much  to  my  joy,  I  was  ordered 
"horse  exercise."  A  pony  was  bought  for  me,  and  I 
rode  daily  —  sitting  alternately  on  the  left  and  right 
side  to  counteract  any  tendency  to  weakness  of  the 
spine.  I  was  intensely  happy  in  my  long  rides  alone 
on  "Eugenie."  Before  "Eugenie"  I  had  a  pony  named 
"Tom  Tit,"  but  he  w^as  considered  too  much  for  me 
to  ride  alone. 

Friends  of  my  brother  Evelyn  frequently  stayed  at 
Rivenhall,  and  one  of  them,  a  colonel  of  Light  Dra- 
goons, was  engaged  to  one  of  my  elder  sisters.  This 
gentleman  appealed  to  my  youthful  mind  as  being  all 
that  a  hero  should  be,  and  I  used  to  stick  a  red  fez  on 
my  golden  curls  and  gallop  my  pony  past  the  dining- 
room  windows  so  that  he  might  see  and  admire  the 
intrepid  maiden,  as  the  prince  in  my  fairy  book  did! 

This  gentleman  gave  me  my  first  "growm-up"  book, 
"Vanity  Fair."  It  was  a  first  edition,  illustrated,  which 
I  then  prized  very  greatly,  and  which  I  still  have. 

I  loved  the  winter  evenings  at  Rivenhall  when  my 
brothers  were  not  at  home.     My  father  used  to  sit  by 

8 


MY  EARLY  LIFE 

the  fire  reading  his  Times,  with  his  great  white  cat  on 
his  knee,  while  I  made  his  tea  and  hot  buttered  toast, 
and  my  mother  and  sister  Anna  read  or  sketched.  I 
used  to  write  the  plots  of  tragic  little  stories  which  my 
*'Pip"*  used  to  read  and  call  "blood-stained  bandits,'' 
owing  to  the  violent  action  and  the  disregard  of  con- 
vention shown  by  all  the  characters  concerned. 

However,  these  childish  efforts  of  mine  led  to  greater 
results,  as  one  evening  my  mother  and  sister  laugh- 
ingly offered  to  buy  my  "plot"  in  order  to  "write  it 
up"  into  a  novel.  I  was,  of  course,  very  proud  to  sell 
my  idea,  and  thenceforth  both  my  mother  and  sister 
wrote  many  successful  novels,  published  by  Chapman 
and  Hall,  and,  I  believe,  at  prices  that  are  rarely  realised 
by  present-day  novelists. 

I  was  thus  the  unwitting  means  of  greatly  relieving 
my  parents'  anxiety  of  how  to  meet,  with  their  not 
very  large  income,  the  heavy  expense  of  educating  and 
maintaining  my  brothers,  and  the  responsibilities  of 
their  position. 

*Sir  John. 


CHAPTER  II 

FAMILY    LIFE   AT    RIVENHALL 

"Children  knoio, 
Instinctive  taught,  the  friend  or  foe."  —  Scott. 

x\mong  my  brother's  friends  I  have  happy  recollections 
of  the  late  Sir  William  Peel,  and  I  remember  going 
into  the  great  hall  in  a  large  new  hat  that  had  been 
greatly  admired  by  my  flattering  old  nurse  to  say  good- 
bj^e  to  him  when  he  was  leaving  after  a  visit.  Sir  Wil- 
liam remarked  cheerfully  that  I  was  wonderfully  like 
a  mushroom,  and  to  hide  my  mortification  I  brought 
my  largest  cat  (I  had  thirteen  of  them!)  to  show  him. 
"Oh,  what  an  ugly"  —  then,  seeing  my  face  of  re- 
proach, he  hastily  continued  —  "but  very  fine  cat!" 
Even  in  such  little  matters  his  sensitive  kindness  showed 
itself.  To  this  day  w^hen  members  of  the  family  wish 
to  make  excuses  for  any  inexcellence  they  remark  hope- 
fully, "but  very  fine  cat!" 

My  brothers  loved  to  tease  me,  and,  as  I  was  so  much 
younger  than  they,  I  never  understood  if  they  were 
really  serious  or  only  laughing  at  me.  Evelyn  was 
specially  adroit  in  bewildering  me,  and  used  to  curb 
my  rebellion,  when  I  was  reluctant  to  fetch  and  carry 
for  him,  by  drawing  a  harrowing  picture  of  my  remorse 
should  he  be  killed  "in  the  next  war."  The  horror  of 
this  thought  kept  me  a  ready  slave  for  years,  till  one 
day,  in  a  gust  of  temper,  I  burst  out  with:  "I  shan't 
be  sorry  at  all  when  you're  killed  in  a  war  cos'  I  didn't 

10 


FAMILY  LIFE   AT  RIVENHALL 

find  your  silly  things,  and  I  wish  you'd  go  away  and  be 
a  dead  hero  now,  so  there!"  I  remember  the  horrified 
pause  of  my  mother  and  sister  and  then  the  howl  of 
laughter  and  applause  from  Evelyn  and  Charlie.  Eve- 
lyn was  very  good  to  me  after  this,  and  considered, 
more,  that  even  little  girls  have  their  feelings. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  my  mother  was  so  entirely  wrapped 
up  in  Evelyn  that  I  think  I  was  jealous,  even  though 
I  had  my  father  so  much  to  myself.  My  mother  was 
most  affectionate  to  all  her  children,  but  Evelyn  was 
her  idol,  and  from  the  time  wdien,  as  a  mere  lad,  he  was 
wounded  in  the  Crimean  War,  to  the  day  of  her  death, 
he  was  first  in  all  her  thoughts. 

During  his  long  absences  from  home  —  and  he  went 
into  the  navy  at  fourteen  —  she  wrote  to  him  dail}^  till 
her  death,  and  often  I  remember  my  father  urging  her 
to  come  in  from  the  cold,  damp  air  as  she  stood  out 
on  the  avenue  listening  for  his  coming.  Evelyn  fully 
reciprocated  the  devotion  of  his  mother  and  never  fell 
short  of  her  expectations.  It  was  in  his  nature  to  work 
hard  at  the  thing  in  hand;  but  for  her  sake  the  thought 
of  failure  became  impossible,  and  her  intrepid  spirit  had 
the  immense  happiness  of  seeing  her  soldier  son  win 
honour  after  honour. 

In  the  large  hall  of  Rivenhall  logs  burnt  in  the  great 
open  fireplaces.  Out  of  this  hall  opened  a  smaller  one 
from  w^hich  the  broad  shallow  oak  stairs  led  to  the  upper 
rooms.  It  was  a  breathless  affair,  w4ien  I  was  small, 
to  leave  the  long  dining-room  and  cross  these  halls,  in 
the  flickering  light  of  the  log  fire,  to  my  father's  study, 
where  I  used  to  hammer  wildly  on  the  door  —  too  sure 
that  the  long  shadows  vv^ere  "Something"  about  to 
catch  me  to  turn  the  door-handle  in  the  ordinary  way. 
Safely  arrived,  I  would  sit  happily  on  the  floor  reading 

11 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

books  quite  beyond  my  years  and  comprehension,  but, 
except  for  gently  substituting  Scott  for  a  less  edifying 
author,  my  father  let  me  read  what  I  liked. 

The  drawing-room  was  hung  with  my  mother's  paint- 
ings, and,  though  I  was  too  young  to  appreciate  them, 
I  used  to  like  to  wander  round  the  room  looking  at  the 
pictures,  and  specially  considering  the  one  of  my  father 
as  a  young  man  in  hunting  dress. 

This  picture  rather  worried  me,  as  he  had  given  up 
hunting  and  said  it  was  because  he  was  so  old!  His 
friends  liked  to  tell  me  stories  of  his  hard  riding,  and 
of  his  erstwhile  curate,  who  would  hunt  if  his  vicar  did 
and  who  was  no  sooner  on  a  horse  than  he  was  off  again. 
"A  brave  little  man,  my  Pippin,  but  no  sportsman," 
said  my  father,  and  I  understood  later  that,  with  nine 
children  to  educate  and  start  out  in  hfe,  my  "sporting 
parson"  had  to  grow  "too  old"  very  early  in  life. 

Of  my  brothers  and  sisters  I  really  knew  only  four 
at  all  well.  Clarissa  had  died  at  seventeen,  and  Fred 
when  I  was  very  young;  Frank  was  away  with  his  regi- 
ment, my  sister  Pollie  was  married  and  away  in  India 
before  I  was  born,  and  my  sister  Emma  married  Sir 
Thomas  Barrett-Lennard  while  I  was  still  very  young. 
She  was  always  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  used  to  love 
going  to  visit  her  at  her  house  in  Brighton.  Visiting 
Sir  Thomas  Barrett-Lennard's  country  seat,  Belhus,  I 
did  not  like  so  much,  because,  though  Belhus  is  very 
beautiful,  I  loved  Rivenhall  better. 

There  was  a  very  old  and  large  cedar  tree  on  the 
lawn  outside  our  drawing-room  window,  with  a  long, 
low  swing  where  I  used  to  sway  gently  backwards  and 
forwards  reading  my  mother's  and  Anna's  manuscript. 
My  mother  and  sister  Anna  used  to  let  me  read  and 
criticise,  at  which  I  felt  greatly  honoured. 

12 


FAMILY  LIFE   AT  RIVENIIALL 

A  solitary  peacock  called  "Jackhawks"  used  to  haunt 
this  spot,  and  he  had  a  startling  habit  of  suddenly 
springing  into  the  air  with  a  wild  crj'-  and  pecking  sav- 
agely at  the  eyes  of  the  person  sitting  in  the  swing. 
My  mother  was  very  fond  of  him,  and  one  da}',  finding 
him  with  a  broken  leg,  sent  a  frantic  message  to  the 
local  doctor  to  come  and  mend  it.  He  arrived  thinking 
that  a  member  of  the  family  —  with  whom  he  was  not 
on  good  terms  —  was  the  sufferer,  but  when  my  mother 
imperiously  escorted  him  to  the  patient  his  indignation 
was   swallowed  up  in  amusement. 

My  mother  was  a  fine  musician,  and,  as  I  grew  older, 
I  began  to  long  to  play  as  she  did.  There  was  a  beau- 
tiful grand  piano  in  the  drawing-room,  and  I  used  to 
try  to  pick  out  tunes  upon  it.  My  mother  had  spent 
much  money  on  her  eldest  daughter's  —  Maria's  (Pollie) 
—  musical  education.  At  the  end  of  this  Pollie  said 
she  detested  it,  and  would  never  play  a  note  again  if 
she  could  help  it.  When  I  asked  that  I  might  be  taught 
to  play  my  mother  said,  "No.  There  is  the  piano,  go 
and  play  it  if  you  really  want  to  learn."  In  time  I 
could  play  very  well  by  ear,  and  began  to  compose  a 
little  and  seek  for  wider  knowledge.  A  few  miles  away 
was  Witham,  and  there  I  found  a  teacher  in  the  organ- 
ist of  the  church.  He  was  quite  blind,  but  a  wonderful 
musician.  He  taught  me  a  good  deal  about  music, 
and  also  taught  me  to  play  the  organ. 

I  began  as  I  grew  up  to  have  a  good  singing  voice, 
and  later  on  had  lessons  from  Mme.  Lemmens-Sher- 
rington,  but  my  father  would  have  none  of  the 
songs  and  French  operatic  music  my  mother  liked 
me  to  sing  to  her.  Nothing  but  Handel  might  I  sing 
to  him,  and,  unaware  as  I  was  of  the  difficulties  of  the 
composition,   I   used   to   sing   "God   is  for   us,"  "Com- 

13 


CHARLES   STEWART  PARNELL 

fort    ye,"    and    "How    beautiful    are    the    feet"    very 
creditably.  , 

My  father  loved  this  music,  and  it  suited  my  voice 
better  than  light  operatic  music. 

My  love  of  music  at  this  time  led  me  to  try  compo- 
sition, and  I  used  to  set  to  music  any  verses  that  took 
my  fancy.  Among  these  I  was  much  pleased  with 
Longfellow's  "Weariness,"  and  was  so  encouraged  by 
my  mother's  praise  of  the  setting  that  I  sent  the  poet  a 
copy.  I  was  a  very  happy  girl  when  he  wrote  to  thank 
me,  saying  that  mine  was  the  best  setting  of  his  poem 
he  had  ever  heard. 

Armed  with  the  manuscript  of  this  music  and  some 
others,  the  next  time  I  went  to  London  with  my  father 
I  went  to  Boosey's,  the  musical  publishers,  and  asked 
their  representative  to  publish  them. 

"Quite  impossible,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he  an- 
swered at  once.  "We  never  take  beginners'  work!" 
I  plaintively  remarked  that  even  Mozart  was  a  "be- 
ginner" once,  and  could  not  understand  why  he  laughed. 
Still,  with  a  smile,  he  consented  to  look  at  the 
manuscript,  and  to  my  joy  he  ceased  to  laugh  at  me 
and  tried  some  of  it  over,  finally  agreeing,  much  to 
my  joy,  to  publish  "Weariness"  and  a  couple  of  other 
songs. 

I  remember  my  father's  pleasure  and  the  merry 
twinkle  in  his  eye  as  he  gravely  assented  to  my  sugges- 
tion that  we  were  a  very  gifted  family! 

While  my  brother  Frank  (who  was  in  the  17th  Foot) 
was  stationed  at  Aldershot  he  invited  my  sister  Anna 
and  myself  down  to  see  a  review.  He  was  married, 
and  we  stayed  with  him  and  his  wife  and  children  in 
the  married  officers'  quarters,  which  appeared  to  us  to 
be  very  gay  and  amusing. 

14 


FAMILY  LIFE   AT  RIVENHALL 

I  greatly  enjoyed  seeing  the  cavalry,  with  all  the 
officers  and  men  in  full  dress. 

Many  of  the  officers  came  over  to  call  after  the  re- 
view, and  among  them  was  Willie  O'Shea,  who  was 
then  a  cornet  in  the  18th  Hussars.  There  was  a  small 
drama  acted  by  the  officers  in  the  evening  which  my 
brother's  wife  took  us  to  see,  and  there  were  many  of 
the  18th  Hussars,  who  paid  us  much  attention,  though, 
personally,  I  found  the  elderly  and  hawk-eyed  colonel 
of  the  regiment  far  more  interesting  than  the  younger  men. 

I  sadly  wanted  someone  young  enough  to  play  games 
with  me,  and  the  boy  who  was  kept  at  Rivenhall  for 
*' boots  and  knives"  was  my  chosen  companion  for 
cricket.  I  thought  this  youth  a  marvellous  player,  and 
when  on  one  occasion  I  won  the  game  I  threw  a  stump 
into  the  air  in  my  joy.  My  triumph  was  short-lived, 
for  it  came  down  on  my  head,  and  cut  it  very  badl3^ 

My  stammering  companion  dragged  me  to  the  house 
after  wildly  dabbing  at  the  fast-flowing  blood  with  my 
pinafore.  What  with  the  boy's  assurances  that  I  was 
"bleedin'  to  def "  and  the  cry  of  my  nurse  at  the  sight 
of  my  blood-soaked  pinafore,  I  was  thoroughly  fright- 
ened, and  slid  out  of  the  difficulties  of  explanations 
and  the  commotion  by  fainting.  This  little  episode  led 
to  the  banishment  of  my  chosen  ally,  the  boot-boy;  and 
I  was  thrown  more  than  ever  on  my  own  resources. 

Regular  lessons  were  forbidden,  but  my  father  used 
to  teach  me  in  a  desultory  way,  and  had  never-ending 
patience  in  answering  questions.  Looking  far  back  to 
my  childhood  I  can  now  see  how  he  used  to  direct  my 
reading,  without  my  being  in  the  least  aware  of  it,  and 
how  he  drew  me  on  to  questions  of  countries,  places, 
and  men  that  led  continually  to  further  interest  and 
desire  for  knowledge  which  he  never  failed  to  supply. 

15 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

He,  Sir  John,  was  for  twenty -five  years  chairman  of 
the  Board  of  Guardians,  for  twenty-two  years  chair- 
man of  the  Witham  Bench,  and  also  visiting  magistrate 
to  the  Chelmsford  Gaol.  He  was  extremely  popular, 
and  I  was  very  proud  that  I  might  always  drive  with 
him  to  the  court  and  to  various  meetings.  I  remem- 
ber that  I  used  to  experience  a  great  awe  on  the  days 
when  he  visited  the  prison,  and  I  noticed  that  he  was 
a  little  sad  and  silent  as  we  drove  home. 

He  was  in  great  request  throughout  the  county  for 
dinner  parties,  which  were  in  those  days  the  chief  form 
of  social  intercourse  in  Essex.  To  these  he  could  not 
take  me,  but  I  used  to  lie  awake  till  he  came  to  "tuck 
me  up,"  and  gently  whisper  "God  bless  you,  my  Bless- 
ing," to  which  I  would  respond  "God  bless  you,  Pip," 
in  return. 

My  happiest  days  were  when  we  took  long  walks 
and  hunted  for  wild  flowers  together.  My  father  knew 
a  good  deal  about  botany,  and  taught  me  the  names 
of  the  flowers  I  collected,  their  old  English  names  and 
the  derivations  of  them.  I  have  still  the  books  he  gave 
me,  that  I  might  learn  more  of  the  flowers  which  grow 
without  cultivation,  and  the  power  of  observation  he 
awoke  in  me  then  has  been  a  great  solace  to  me  through 
life. 

My  father's  sister,  Mrs.  Maddy,  lived  at  Hill  House, 
Messing,  and  had,  I  believe,  a  very  good  collection  of 
pictures,  among  them  being  an  original  Greuze,  "Girl 
with  a  Pitcher,"  which  my  mother  copied  exquisitely. 
I  was  too  young  to  appreciate  these  beautiful  pictures, 
and  my  only  memory  of  my  visits  to  this  art  collection 
is  of  the  torture  I  suffered  in  being  made  to  eat  minced 
mutton ! 

16 


CHAPTER  III 

VISITORS   AT    RIVENHALL 

"A  chieVs  arnang  you  takirC  notes. 
And,  faith,  he'll  prent  it  /"  —  Burns. 

Among  other  visitors  to  Rivenhall  was  Lieut. -Colonel 
Steele,  of  the  Lancers,  a  dark,  handsome  man,  who  mar- 
ried my  sister  Anna. 

I  remember  looking  at  Anna  consideringly  when  I 
was  told  this  was  to  be,  for,  as  children  do,  I  had  hither- 
to merely  regarded  Anna  as  a  sister  too  "grown-up" 
to  play  with  on  equal  terms,  and  yet  not  as  a  person 
sufficiently  interesting  to  be  married  to  one  of  the  mag- 
nificent beings  who,  like  Evelj^n's  friends,  wore  such 
beautiful  uniforms  and  jingly  spurs.  But  my  sister  had 
soft,  brown  hair  and  a  lovely  skin,  blue  eyes  that  were 
mocking,  gay,  or  tender  in  response  to  many  moods, 
and  a  very  pretty  figure.  And  I  solemnly  decided  that 
she  was  really  pretty,  and  quite  "grown-up"  enough  to 
be  loved  by  the  "  beautiful  ones." 

Anthony  Trollope  was  a  great  friend  of  my  father  and 
mother,  and  used  to  stay  with  us  a  good  deal  for  hunting. 
He  was  a  very  hard  rider  to  hounds,  and  was  a  cause  of 
great  anxiety  to  my  mother,  for  my  sister  Anna  loved  an 
intrepid  "lead"  out  hunting,  and  delighted  in  following 
Trollope,  who  stuck  at  nothing,  I  used  to  rejoice  in  his 
"The  Small  House  at  Allington,"  and  go  about  fitting  the 
characters  in  the  book  to  the  people  about  me  —  a  mode  of 
amusement  that  palled  considerably  on  the  victims. 

17 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

The  Reverend  John  Bellew  was  a  well-known  church- 
man and  preacher  in  those  days.  He  was  much  ad- 
mired by  my  people,  but  I  do  not  remember  much  of 
him,  except  that  he  had  a  very  venerable  appearance, 
and  that  I  felt  very  small  and  good  when  he  was  stay- 
ing at  Rivenhall. 

I  was  very  fond  of  figs  when  I  was  a  tiny  little  child, 
and  it  was  in  an  excess  of  this  feeling  of  virtue  inspired 
by  Mr.  Bellew  that,  when  a  surprised  parent  asked  me 
why  I  was  unwilling  to  go  and  get  something  that  was 
required  from  the  dining-room,  I  replied  with  a  shower 
of  tears,  "Dem  figs  bodder  me  so!"  —  the  figs  of  my 
temptation  having  been  left  nestling  in  a  plate  of  cool 
green  leaves  in  the  dining-room. 

The  hounds  used  frequently  to  meet  at  Rivenhall, 
and  the  Master,  Mr.  Honeywood,  and  I  were  great 
friends,  though  we  should  not  have  been  so  if  he  had 
known  how  I  used  to  wander  quietly  off  during  the 
hunt  breakfast,  away  to  the  covers  they  intended  to 
draw,  and  tramp  about  as  much  as  possible  to  spoil 
the  scent.  I  would  wait  till  the  "quarry"  got  away, 
and  give  wild  "view  holloa"  in  the  wrong  direction,  to 
save  my  furry  friends. 

I  often  used  to  see  the  hares  feeding  in  the  evening, 
and  could  get  very  close  to  them  as  they  nibbled  the 
grass,  watching  me  with  their  bright  eyes,  and,  seem- 
ingly, unconcerned  at  my  presence.  Of  course,  I  never 
confessed  my  unsporting  behaviour  to  any  of  the  house- 
hold, as  my  brothers  always  hunted  when  at  home, 
and  my  sister  also,  and  they  and  the  Master  would  not 
have  forgiven  it.  I  did  not  mind  the  fox-hunting,  but 
the  hares  seemed  so  very  much  my  friends. 

I  was  always  glad  when  our  young  cousin  George 
(afterwards  Sir  George)  Farwell  (Lord  Justice  Farwell) 

18 


VISITORS  AT  RIVENHALL 

came  to  see  us.  A  dear  lad,  who  quite  won  my  childish 
admiration  with  his  courtly  manners  and  kind,  con- 
siderate ways. 

The  Hon.  Grantley-Barkley  (who  was  seventy,  I  be- 
lieve) was  a  dear  old  man  who  was  very  fond  of  me  — 
as  I  was  of  him.  I  was  but  a  child  when  he  informed 
my  parents  that  he  wished  to  marry  me  when  I  was 
old  enough!  He  was  a  dear  friend  of  my  father's,  but, 
though  the  latter  would  not  consider  the  matter  seri- 
ously, my  mother,  who  was  an  extraordinarily  sym- 
pathetic woman,  encouraged  the  idea. 

Grantley-Barkley  was  always  called  the  "Deer-slayer" 
by  his  friends.  A  fine  old  sportsman,  his  house,  "The 
Hut,"  at  Poole,  Dorset,  was  a  veritable  museum  of 
slain  beasts,  and  I  used  to  shudder  secretly  at  the  idea 
of  becoming  mistress  of  so  many  heads  and  horns. 

The  dear  old  man  used  to  write  long  letters  to  me 
before  I  could  answer  them  in  anything  but  laborious 
print,  and  he  wrote  sheets  to  my  mother  inquiring  of 
my  welfare  and  the  direction  of  my  education.  I  still 
have  many  of  the  verses  he  composed  in  my  honour, 
and  though  the  last  line  of  the  verse  that  I  insert  wor- 
ries me  now  as  much  as  it  did  when  I  received  it,  so 
many  years  ago,  I  still  think  it  very  pretty  sentiment: 

"Then  the  Bird  that  above  me  is  singing 
Shall  chase  the  thought  that  is  drear. 
When  the  soul  to  her  side  it  is  winging 
The  limbs  must  be  lingering  near!" 

This  little  one-sided  romance  died  a  natural  death  as 
I  grew  up;  my  old  friend  continuing  to  take  the  kindest 
interest  in  me,  but  accepting  the  fact  that  I  was  no  ex- 
ception to  the  law  of  youth,  that  calls  to  youth  in  mating. 

My  brother  Frank  suggested  to  my  brother-in-law, 

19 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Sir  Thomas  Barrett-Lennard,  that  Willie  O'Shea,  who 
was  a  first-class  steeplechase  rider,  would  no  doubt,  if 
asked,  ride  the  horse  Honesty  that  Tom  was  going  to 
run  in  the  Brentwood  Steeplechase.  He  had  already 
ridden  and  won  many  races.  Willie  readily  agreed  to 
ride,  and  came  to  stay  at  Belhus  for  the  race. 

I  was  staying  there  at  the  time,  and  though  I  was 
considered  too  young  to  be  really  "out,"  as  a  rule  I 
had  my  share  in  any  festivities  that  were  going  on.  I 
remember  my  brother-in-law  saying  casually  to  my  sis- 
ter Emma,  who  was  giving  a  dinner  party  that  even- 
ing: "Who  is  Katie  to  go  in  with,  milady?"  and  she 
answered  promptly,  *'0h,  she  shall  go  in  with  O'Shea." 
A  mild  witticism  that  rather  ruffled  my  youthful  sense 
of  importance. 

My  first  sight  of  Willie  then,  as  a  grown-up,  was  on 
this  evening,  when  I  came  rather  late  into  the  hall 
before  dressing  for  dinner.  He  was  standing  near  the 
fire,  talking  with  the  eagerness  that  was  not  in  those 
days  bad  form  in  young  men  of  the  steeplechase  he  had 
ridden  and  won  on  Early  Bird. 

I  had  been  so  much  the  companion  of  older  men 
than  he  that  I  was  pleased  with  his  youthful  looks  and 
vivacity.  His  dress  pleased  me  also,  and,  though  it 
would  appear  a  terrible  affair  in  the  eyes  of  a  modern 
young  man,  it  was  perfectly  correct  then  for  a  young 
officer  in  the  18th  Hussars,  and  extremely  becoming  to 
Willie:  a  brown  velvet  coat,  cut  rather  fully,  seal-skin 
waistcoat,  black-and-white  check  trousers,  and  an  enor- 
mous carbuncle  and  diamond  pin  in  his  curiously  folded 
scarf. 

When  introduced  to  me  he  was  most  condescending, 
and  nettled  me  so  much  by  his  kindly  patronage  of 
my  youthfulness  that  I  promptly  plunged  into  such  a 

20 


VISITORS  AT  RIVENHALL 

discussion  of  literary  complexities,  absorbed  frora  my 
elders  and  utterly  undigested,  that  he  soon  subsided  into 
a  bewildered  and  shocked  silence. 

However,  in  the  few  days  of  that  visit  we  became 
very  good  friends,  and  I  was  immensely  pleased  when, 
on  parting,  Willie  presented  me  with  a  really  charming 
little  poem  written  about  my  *' golden  hair  and  witsome 
speech." 

Of  course,  as  usual,  I  flew  to  show  my  father,  who, 
reading,  sighed,  "Ah,  too  young  for  such  nonsense.  I 
want  my  Pippin  for  myself  for  years  to  come." 

Willie's  family,  the  O'Sheas  of  Limerick,  were  a  col- 
lateral branch  of  the  O'Sheas  of  County  Kerry.  Willie's 
grandfather,  William  O'Shea  (of  Rich  Hill,  Limerick), 
had  three  sons  —  Henry,  John,  and  Thaddeus.  Thad- 
deus  appears  to  have  been  the  black  sheep  of  the  family, 
wasting  his  substance  in  gambling  and  in  breeding  un- 
likely horses  to  win  impossible  races.  I  always  thought 
he  sounded  rather  interesting,  and  Willie  was  always 
a  little  regretful  that  he  had  never  been  allowed  to  know 
much  of  Uncle  Thaddeus. 

John  went  early  to  Spain,  where  —  and  in  France 
—  a  branch  of  the  family  had  been  settled  (the  Dues 
de  Sanlucas)  since  the  rebellion  of  1641  in  Ireland. 
Here  John  married  Senora  Dona  Ysabel  Hurtado  de 
Corcuera,  founded  a  bank,  and  prospered  exceedingly, 
firmly  refusing  all  offers  from  Thaddeus  of  a  share  in 
the  improbable  glories  —  and  certain  expenses  —  of  his 
racing  stables. 

Henry,  Willie's  father,  was  of  a  different  build.  As 
level-headed  as  John,  and  far  more  generous,  at  the 
death  of  his  father  he,  the  eldest  of  the  three,  took  the 
family  affairs  in  hand;  and  finding  the  estates  mort- 
gaged up  to  the  utmost  limit,  and  the  home  of  his  child- 

21 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

hood  mocking  its  name  (Rich  Hill)  in  its  hopeless  ruin, 
he  bound  himself  to  a  solicitor  in  Dublin,  worked  hard, 
and  in  due  course  became  himself  a  fully  qualified  solic- 
itor. He  did  extremely  well,  and,  developing  a  per- 
fect genius  for  pulling  together  estates  that  appeared 
to  be  hopelessly  bankrupt,  business  flowed  in  to  him, 
and  he  became  a  very  wealthy  man.  He,  equally  with 
John,  refused  to  participate  in  the  ambitions  of  Thad- 
deus  to  establish  a  record-breaking  racing  stable,  but 
he  was  by  no  means  deaf  to  frequent  appeals  for  "tem- 
porary" help  till  the  latest  wonder  of  Thaddeus's  sta- 
ble had  shown  his  "worth"  at  Punchestown. 

Henry  O'Shea  married  Catherine  (a  Comtesse  of 
Rome),  daughter  of  Edward  Quinlan,  of  Tipperary.  Two 
children  were  born  to  them  —  Mary  (afterwards  Lady 
of  the  Royal  Order  of  Theresa  of  Bavaria)  and  William 
Henry,  whom  I  married. 

Henry  O'Shea  lived  for  his  children,  and  content- 
edly toiled  in  Dublin  for  their  benefit,  while  they  were 
being  given  the  most  thorough  education  his  mind  could 
devise  for  them.  They  alternated  between  France,  Eng- 
land, and  Spain,  and  certainly  they  became  perfect 
linguists.  Willie  had  no  natural  taste  for  learning,  but 
he  did  fairly  well  at  Oscott,  very  well  in  France  and 
Spain,  and  finished  up  but  languidly  at  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  before  he  went  into  the  18th  Hussars,  in  which 
regiment  his  father  purchased  a  commission  for  him. 

He  was  sent  into  this  regiment  with  these  instruc- 
tions from  his  father:  "First,  become  a  smart  officer; 
secondly,  do  what  the  other  men  do  and  send  the  bill 
in  to  me!"  He  was  given  an  excellent  allowance,  and 
he  followed  his  father's  instructions  to  the  letter. 

He  was  keen  about  his  work  in  the  regiment,  and 
took  an  honest  interest  in  all  that  pertained  to  it.     He 

22 


VISITORS  AT  RIVENHALL 

also  "did  what  the  other  men  did,"  and  greatly  enjoyed 
himself,  sending  "the  bill"  in  to  his  father,  according 
to  instructions. 

He  was  a  handsome  lad,  gay,  somewhat  irresponsi- 
ble, generous,  and  of  a  ready  —  if  rather  barbed  — 
sense  of  humour.  His  cosmopolitan  education  had 
given  him  an  ease  of  manner  and  self-assurance  that 
made  him  popular  with  his  contemporaries,  even  if  it 
proved  somewhat  exasperating  to  his  seniors  in  the 
regiment. 

The  18th  was  a  sporting  regiment,  and  Willie  O'Shea, 
who  had  a  perfect  seat  and  hands,  was  much  in  request 
to  ride  in  the  various  regimental  races  in  which  the  18th 
were  so  successful.  Young,  happy,  and  healthy,  per- 
haps he  took  his  father's  instructions  as  to  "sending 
in  the  bill"  too  literally,  for  in  a  few  years'  time  the 
hard-working  Dublin  solicitor  was  vigorously  protesting 
at  the  enormous  cost  of  keeping  his  son  in  the  18th. 
Willie,  contrite  and  hurt,  promised  to  remember  that 
even  the  parental  purse  had  its  limits,  but  very  perti- 
nently pointed  out  that  he  had  been  told  to  enjoy  him- 
self. As  soon  as  it  was  possible  his  father  bought  his 
captaincy  for  him  (practically  all  promotion  in  those 
days  was  purchased,  at  any  rate  in  times  of  peace), 
thinking  that  the  superior  rank  would  bring  some  greater 
sense  of  responsibility  to  his  most  affectionate  but 
rather  spendthrift  son;  but  another  few  years  brought 
"the  bill"  in  again  to  the  extent  of  some  £15,000. 
Henry  O'Shea  paid  it  without  cavilling  at  the  amount, 
but  pointed  out  that  Willie's  mother  and  sister  would 
be  the  sufferers  if  he  paid  any  further  debts,  so  that  it 
was  obvious  to  him  that  Willie  would  not  ask  him  to 
do  so,  and  would  in  future  make  his  ample  allowance 
suffice  for  his  needs,  even  if  it  necessitated  his  leaving 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

the  regiment.  Willie  at  once  agreed  that  he  could,  of 
course,  expect  nothing  further,  and  eventually  did  leave 
the  regiment,  just  before  I  married  him. 

Henry  O'Shea  died  in  London  before  Willie  and  I 
married;  he  was  the  very  kindest  of  fathers,  and  Willie 
was  devoted  to  him.  He  was  clever,  just  and  honour- 
able in  all  his  dealings,  and  had  the  most  charming 
manners  and  a  merrier  wit  than  all  the  rest  of  the 
O'Sheas  put  together.  I  think  his  only  fault  was  that 
in  giving  his  children  so  foreign  an  education  they  lost 
somewhat  of  the  Irish  charm  which  he  possessed  so 
strongly  himself.  He  spoke  with  a  brogue  that  was  music 
in  the  ear,  and  the  contrast  of  this  with  his  son's  clear, 
clipped  English  and  his  daughter's  (unaffected)  French  ac- 
cent was  distinctly  amusing  when  the  three  were  together. 

Of  the  Comtesse  O'Shea  there  is  little  to  say  but  that, 
to  me,  she  appeared  to  be  a  bundle  of  negations  wrapped 
in  a  shawl  —  always  in  a  very  beautiful  shawl.  Even 
when  I  first  knew  her  she  and  her  daughter  were  evi- 
dently convinced  that  she  was  very  old  and  feeble, 
although  she  could  not  have  been  much  more  than 
middle-aged,  and  if  there  had  been  no  daughter  to  lean 
upon  I  do  not  think  she  would  have  desired  to  lean. 
She  was  destitute  of  any  sense  of  humour,  and  highly 
educated,  always,  I  think,  an  unhappy  combination, 
and  her  only  definite  characteristics  were  her  assiduous 
practice  of  her  religion  and  her  profound  sense  of  my 
undesirability  as  a  daughter-in-law. 

Willie's  sister,  Mary  O'Shea,  on  the  other  hand,  erred, 
if  at  all,  on  the  side  of  definiteness.  Had  her  health 
been  better  she  would  have  been  extremely  pretty,  but 
rheumatic  fever  had  twice  worked  havoc  on  her  lovely 
skin  and  rendered  her  widely  opened,  blue  eyes  pain- 
marked   and   heavy   lidded.     She   also  was   sadly   defi- 

U 


VISITORS  AT  RIVENHALL 

cient  in  humour,  and  wore  herself  and  her  friends  out 
in  her  endeavours  to  make  bad  CathoHcs  out  of  indiffer- 
ent Protestants.  She  had  naturally'  a  very  quick  tem- 
per and  had  acquired  a  painfully  acute  and  uncompro- 
mising conscience,  which  gave  its  possessor  far  more  pain 
than  any  outbreak  of  the  temper  could  cause  to  others; 
to  whom  indeed  it  came  rather  as  a  relief  from  a  too 
even  and  conventional  nature.  She  had  taken  con- 
scientious advantage  of  her  meticulously  thorough  edu- 
cation, was  a  human  library  of  dry  and  solid  informa- 
tion, and  was  as  ignorant  —  and  as  innocent  —  of  the 
world  at  twenty -eight  as  she  must  have  been  at  eight. 
Her  education  had  left  her  French  in  all  her  modes 
of  thought  and  speech,  and  she  had  a  certain  air  and 
finish  that  were  entirely  so.  Mary  and  I  had  a  certain 
liking  for  one  another,  and  I  think  that,  had  she  not 
shared  her  mother's  conviction  as  to  my  "undesirability," 
I  might  have  become  fond  of  her.  She  was  betrothed 
to  an  Italian  of  old  family  and  of  the  blackest  of  the 
black  Roman  society.  I  believe  she  was  devoted  to 
him  in  her  quiet,  methodical  way,  but  after  her  third 
attack  of  acute  rheumatic  fever,  leaving  behind  it  the 
legacy  of  heart  disease,  shortly  before  they  were  to  be 
wedded,  she  decided  that  her  state  of  health  would 
render  her  but  a  drag  upon  her  prospective  husband, 
and  that  she  would  ask  him  to  release  her  from  her 
promise.  Her  quiet  heroism  was  none  the  less  because 
she  took  the  stately  way  of  going  to  his  house  in  Paris, 
in  company  with  several  elderly  ladies  and  a  prince  of 
the  Church  (a  Cardinal)  to  do  so.  She  died  a  few  years 
later  in  much  suffering  but  perfect  happiness. 


25 


CHAPTER  IV 

PRIVATE    THEATRICALS 

"Ah,  ivell,  we're  mummers  all!" 

One  happy  day,  when  my  brothers  were  at  home,  some- 
one suggested  that  we  should  have  some  theatricals  at 
Rivenhall. 

We  had  several  people  staying  with  us  at  the  time, 
and  promptly  formed  ourselves  into  parties  to  beat 
up  the  "county"  to  come  and  help.  My  sister,  Lady 
Barrett-Lennard,  came  from  Belhus,  bringing  Sir  Thomas 
with  her  (protesting  violently,  though  he  eventually  be- 
came more  enthusiastic  than  any  of  us),  and  my  sister 
Anna,  who  was  now  Mrs.  Steele. 

Our  devoted  mother,  who  was  wonderfully  clever 
with  her  brush,  left  her  beloved  pictures  and  novel- 
writing,  and  set  to  work  to  paint  the  scenery  for  our 
play.  She  spent  days  perched  up  on  the  top  of  a  pair 
of  tall  steps,  painting  away  for  dear  life,  and  at  the  same 
time  listening  intelligently  to  the  various  members  of 
her  family  and  her  guests  declaiming  their  parts  below 
her  and  appealing  for  her  approval. 

"Lady  Wood  knew  a  man  could  not  help  looking  a 
perfect  ass,  spouting  it  all  in  cold  blood,"  and  "Dear 
Lady  Wood  quite  understands  how  essential  it  is  that 
I  should  enter  left;  the  profile  is  everything!" 

She  never  grew  impatient,  but  painted  serenely  on, 
coaching  us,  greeting  her  guests  gaily  from  her  elevated 
position,    and   pairing   off   men   and   maidens   with    an 

26 


PRIVATE  THEATRICALS 

unerring  intuition  that  stilled  the  bickerings  that  nat- 
urally arose  in  the  scramble  for  the  best  parts. 

My  mother  was  still  a  very  attractive  woman  with 
large  grey  eyes  and  the  jet-black  hair  that  she  kept  to 
the  end  of  her  days  —  a  woman  scorning  throughout 
her  life  all  the  cosmetic  adjuncts  to  feminine  beauty, 
she  was  rewarded  by  nature  with  the  preservation  of 
her  good  looks  in  old  age. 

The  scenery  was  most  successful  and  the  drop  cur- 
tain a  dream  of  realistic  landscape  where  one  could  in 
imagination  wander  away  into  a  veritable  fairyland  of 
distance. 

After  much  discussion  the  burlesque  of  Amy  Robsarf, 
to  be  preceded  by  Betsy  Baker,  was  selected.  We 
were  each  one  of  us  probably  convinced  that  he  or  she 
alone  was  capable  of  taking  the  chief  parts,  but,  after 
much  discussion  and  a  firm  reminder  from  Frank  that 
some  of  us  must  be  content  to  fill  the  honourable  office 
of  audience,  the  parts  were  awarded. 

My  sister  Anna  was  to  act  Betsy  Baker,  while  I,  to 
my  great  joy,  was  selected  for  the  part  of  Amy  Robsart. 
The  other  parts  were  filled  by  (the  late)  Sir  Charles 
DuCane  (afterwards  Governor  of  Tasmania),  his  cousin, 
Percy  DuCane  (of  the  Scots  Greys),  my  sister,  Lady 
Barrett-Lennard,  Sir  Thomas,  and  my  brother  Charlie. 
I  remember  the  latter  made  an  extremely  handsome 
Earl  of  Leicester.  Sir  Charles  DuCane  was  "Crummy,' 
Sir  Thomas  "Mouser"  in  Betsy  Baker,  and  Willie 
O'Shea  was  Queen  Elizabeth. 

O'Shea  was  a  name  not  very  well  known  amongst 
us  in  those  days,  and  during  Queen  Elizabeth's  appear- 
ance on  the  stage  some  merry  brother  officers  of  Willie's 
began  to  sing  in  an  undertone:  "O  She  is  a  jolly  good 
fellow."     That  was  enough  to  set  the  whole  "house" 

27 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

off,  and  a  shout  of  laughter  went  up  as  WilKe,  who  was 
then  (and  always)  very  sensitive  as  to  foolish  puns 
upon  his  name,  glowered  at  them  from  under  his  red 
Elizabethan  wig.  In  one  moment  we  had  all  caught 
the  infection,  and  the  old  house  rang  with  "O  she's  a 
jolly  good  fellow,"  and  good  Queen  Bess,  with  a  look  of 
withering  scorn,  picked  up  his  skirts  and  stalked  off 
"left"  with  as  much  dignity  as  he  could  muster. 

Having  been  once  bitten  with  the  theatrical  mania, 
we  were  restless  and  anxious  for  more,  and  soon  we 
were  rehearsing  for  another  comedy,  to  be  enacted 
this  time  at  Belhus,  the  home  of  my  brother-in-law 
Tom  and  my  sister  Emma.  I  have  forgotten  what  the 
play  was;  but  Mr.  Spaulding  (of  the  Foreign  Office), 
Christopher  Weguelin,  and  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir)  Charles 
Hall  were  great  acquisitions,  as  they  were  fine  ama- 
teur actors,  and  had  a  "finish"  that  our  first  perform- 
ance perhaps  lacked.  We  were  properly  coached  for 
the  series  of  plays  we  then  began  by  the  late  Mrs.  Keeley, 
Mrs.  Stirling,  and  Mr.  J.  Clarke. 

After  the  success  of  the  Belhus  theatricals  we  soared 
much  higher  and  acted  at  Chelmsford,  the  theatre  at 
Colchester,  and  even  in  London.  My  mother  was 
always  most  sympathetic,  taking  the  greatest  interest 
in  our  efforts,  and  sitting  in  the  wings  to  prompt  and 
encourage  us.  This  was  a  great  comfort  to  me,  as  I 
was  nervous,  and  my  legs  used  to  shake  and  my  lips 
tremble  so  much  that  it  was  sometimes  only  her  whis- 
pered encouragement  that  enabled  me  to  sing,  or  to 
begin  my  part  at  all. 

Willie  O'Shea  used  to  present  me  with  most  beau- 
tiful bouquets  during  these  efforts,  and,  in  the  pretty 
fashion  of  those  days,  bees  and  butterflies  were  so  mounted 
as  to  appear  hovering  over  the  rare  exotics. 

28 


PRIVATE  THEATRICALS 

The  rehearsals  in  amateur  theatricals  are  really  the 
most  amusing  part  of  the  entertainment,  and  the  learn- 
ing and  hearing  one  another's  parts  led  to  endless  laugh- 
ter, quarrels,  and  fun. 

My  sister.  Lady  Barrett-Lennard,  looked  so  lovely 
in  the  powder  and  patches  worn  in  the  old-world  plays 
we  so  much  affected  that  we  often  persuaded  her  to 
wear  powder  in  the  evening  when  there  were  house 
parties  in  Belhus.  She  was  petite,  and  possessed  large, 
soft  eyes  and  delicate  features,  and  in  her  diamonds 
and  powder  looked  as  though  she  had  stepped  down 
from  one  of  Sir  Thomas's  ancestral  pictures  that  hung 
above  her  in  the  dining-room. 

I  was  now  given  a  little  sitting-room  of  my  own, 
where  I  could  be  undisturbed,  and  receive  my  own 
friends;  and  our  one  outdoor  servant,  Tim  Bobbin, 
put  down  a  carpet  and  hung  white  curtains  for  me, 
afterwards  filling  the  window  seats  with  the  best  flowers 
he  could  get.  Then  my  dear  sister-in-law  (my  brother 
Charlie's  wife)  drove  over  to  see  us,  and  spent  a  morn- 
ing in  lining  my  curtains  with  pink;  and  the  little  room 
glowed  with  colour. 

My  brother  Charlie's  wife  has  always  been  a  "Minna 
of  sweet  memories"  to  me,  and  while  my  home  was 
at  Rivenhall  I  always  looked  forward  with  pleasure  to 
the  days  on  which  she  drove  over,  with  her  two  chil- 
dren, from  her  home  a  few  miles  away. 

Charlie,  then  the  second  surviving  son  of  my  parents, 
had  always  been  delicate,  and  in  order  to  keep  him 
constantly  in  the  open  air  my  father  had  had  him  taught 
farming,  and  when  he  married  he  bought  a  farm  near 
Rivenhall. 

Speaking  of  Tim  Bobbin  reminds  me  of  the  amuse- 
ment of  my  family  when  I  received,  amongst  innumer- 

29 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

able  other  valentines,  a  gorgeous  one  from  Tim.  It 
was  a  wonderful  affair  of  satin,  paper-lace,  and  orris- 
root  scent,  and  had  a  magnificent  representation  of 
two  hearts  transfixed  by  a  golden  arrow.  "I  would 
thou  wert  my  bride,  love,"  twirled  gracefully  round 
the  hearts,  and  the  "Respectful  duty  of  your  humble 
servant  Tim  Bobbin"  was  partly  scrawled  and  mostly 
printed  on  the  back. 

I  had  many  valentines.  St.  Valentine's  Day  was 
still  eagerly  looked  for  in  those  days,  but  I  gave  this 
the  place  of  honour,  in  spite  of  hearing  from  Charlie 
that  my  humble  admirer,  on  being  rallied  on  his  val- 
entine, exclaimed  stoutly:  "Eh,  Mr.  Charles,  gi'en  a 
man  had  two  thousan'  a  year  an'  Miss  Katie  to  wife 
he  med  ask  for  naught  better!" 

In  the  summer  I  went  to  stay  at  Belhus  once  more, 
and  again  met  Willie,  who  was  now  a  very  welcome 
guest  with  all  my  people. 

Unconsciously  we  seemed  to  drift  together  in  the 
long  summer  days  as  we  wandered  through  the  park, 
seeking  shelter  from  the  heat  in  the  avenue  of  great 
limes,  where  the  air  was  heavy  with  scented  bloom 
and  the  hum  of  bees.  The  rest  of  the  household  seemed 
intent  on  their  own  affairs,  and  we  were  content  to  be 
left  together  to  explore  the  cool  depths  of  the  glades, 
where  the  fallow  deer  ran  before  us,  or  the  kitchen 
garden,  where  the  high  walls  were  covered  with  rose- 
coloured  peaches,  warm  with  the  sun  as  we  ate  them. 
What  we  talked  about  I  cannot  remember,  but  it  was 
nothing  very  wise  I  should  imagine. 

Back  to  the  house  to  tea  with  the  others  in  the  south 
drawing-room,  where  the  scent  of  tuberoses  and  jas- 
mine added  to  the  sweetness  of  the  summer  evening, 
and  then  Willie  and  I  would  pace  the  avenue  in  dreamy 

30 


PRIVATE  THEATRICALS 

silence,  while  the  shadows  lengthened  and  the  moon  rose, 
and  the  haze  of  the  summer  night  drove  the  deer  to 
higher  ground  towards  the  house. 

Week  after  week  went  by  in  our  trance  of  content- 
ment. I  did  not  look  forward,  but  was  content  to  exist 
in  the  languorous  summer  heat  —  dreaming  through  the 
sunny  days  with  Willie  by  my  side,  and  thinking  not 
at  all  of  the  future.  I  suppose  my  elders  were  content 
with  the  situation,  as  they  must  have  known  that  such 
propinquity  could  have  but  one  ending. 

There  was  a  man  by  whom  I  was  attracted  and  who 
had  paid  me  considerable  attention  —  E.  S.,  stationed 
at  Purfleet.  He  was  a  fine  athlete,  and  used  to  fill  me 
with  admiration  by  jumping  over  my  pony's  back  with- 
out touching  him  at  all.  I  sometimes  thought  idly  of 
him  during  these  days  with  Willie,  but  was  content 
to  drift  along,  until  one  day  my  sister  asked  me  to 
drive  over  with  a  note  of  invitation  to  dinner  for  the 
officers  at  Purfleet. 

In  the  cool  of  the  evening  I  set  out,  with  Willie,  of 
course,  in  attendance.  Willie,  on  arrival,  sprang  out 
of  the  pony  cart  to  deliver  the  note,  and  as  he  was  jump- 
ing in  again  glanced  up  at  the  window  above  us,  where 
it  happened  E.  S.  and  another  officer  were  standing. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Willie  leant  forward 
and  kissed  me  full  on  the  lips.  Furious  and  crimson 
with  the  knowledge  that  the  men  at  the  window  had 
seen  him  kiss  me,  I  hustled  my  poor  little  pony  home, 
vowing  I  would  never  speak  to  Willie  again;  but  his 
apologies  and  explanation  that  he  had  only  just  wanted 
"to  show  those  fellows  that  they  must  not  make  asses 
of  themselves"  seemed  so  funny  and  in  keeping  with 
the  dreamy  sense  I  had  of  belonging  to  Willie  that  I 
soon  forgave  him,  though  I  felt  a  little  stab  of  regret 

81 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

when  I  found  that  E.  S.  dedined  the  invitation  to  din- 
ner.    He  never  came  again. 

WiUie  had  now  to  rejoin  his  regiment,  and  in  the 
evening  before  his  going,  as  I  was  leaving  the  drawing- 
room,  he  stopped  to  offer  me  a  rose,  kissing  me  on  the 
face  and  hair  as  he  did  so. 

A  few  mornings  after  I  was  sleeping  the  dreamless 
sleep  of  healthy  girlhood  when  I  was  awakened  by 
feeling  a  thick  letter  laid  on  my  cheek  and  my  mother 
leaning  over  me  singing  "Kathleen  Mavourneen"  in 
her  rich  contralto  voice.  I  am  afraid  I  was  decidedly 
cross  at  having  been  awakened  so  suddenly,  and,  clasp- 
ing my  letter  unopened,  again  subsided  into  slumber. 

So  far  nearly  all  my  personal  communication  with 
Willie  when  he  was  away  had  been  carried  on  by  tele- 
graph, and  I  had  not  quite  arrived  at  knowing  what  to 
reply  to  the  sheets  of  poetic  prose  which  flowed  from 
his  pen.  Very  frequently  he  came  down  just  for  a  few 
hours  to  Rivenhall,  and  I  drove  to  meet  him  at  the 
station  with  my  pony-chaise.  Then  we  used  to  pass 
long  hours  at  the  lake  fishing  for  pike,  or  talking  to  my 
father,  who  was  always  cheered  by  his  society. 

At  this  time  Colonel  Chve,  of  the  Grenadier  Guards, 
was  a  frequent  visitor.  I  was  really  fond  of  him,  and 
he  pleased  me  by  his  pleasure  in  hearing  me  sing  to 
my  own  accompaniment.  I  spent  some  happy  hours 
in  doing  so  for  him  when  staying  at  Claridge's  Hotel 
with  my  sister,  and  I  remember  that  when  I  knew  he 
was  coming  I  used  to  twist  a  blue  ribbon  in  my  hair  to 
please  him. 

Once,  when  staying  at  Claridge's,  my  sister  and  I 
went  to  his  rooms  to  see  the  sketches  of  a  friend  of  my 
brother  Evelyn's,  Mr.  Hozier,  the  clever  newspaper 
correspondent,  afterwards  Sir  H.  Hozier,  and  father  of 

32 


PRIVATE  THEATRICALS 

Mrs.  Winston  Churchill.  The  drawings  were,  I  believe, 
very  clever,  and  I  know  the  tea  was  delicious. 

It  was  some  time  after  this  that  the  18th  Hussars 
were  stationed  at  Brighton.  The  18th  were  great  sports- 
men, and  Willie  a  "crack"  steeplechase  rider.  He  used 
to  school  young  horses  on  the  Downs  above  Brighton, 
both  his  own  and  those  of  other  men,  for  his  "way  with 
a  horse"  and  his  good  hands  were  generally  appreci- 
ated among  his  brother  officers.  W'illie  loved  these 
early  morning  gallops  on  the  Downs,  and,  on  one  occa- 
sion, he  rode  off  soon  after  daybreak  on  his  steeple- 
chaser. Early  Bird,  for  a  gallop  on  the  race-course. 
At  the  early  parade  that  morning  Willie  was  missing, 
and,  as  inquiries  were  being  made  as  to  his  whereabouts, 
a  trooper  reported  that  Early  Bird  had  just  been  brought 
in  dead  lame,  and  bleeding  profusely  from  a  gash  in 
the  chest. 

He  had  been  found  limping  his  way  down  the  hill 
from  the  race-course.  Willie's  brother  officers  imme- 
diately set  out  to  look  for  him,  and  found  him  lying 
unconscious  some  twenty  yards  from  a  chain  across 
the  course  which  was  covered  with  blood,  and  evidently 
the  cause  of  the  mishap.  They  got  him  down  to  the 
barracks  on  a  stretcher,  and  there  he  lay  with  broken 
ribs  and  concussion  of  the  brain. 

He  told  us  afterwards  that  he  was  going  at  a  hard 
gallop,  and  neither  he  nor  Early  Bird  had  seen  the 
chain  till  they  were  right  on  it,  too  late  to  jump.  There 
had  never  been  a  chain  up  before,  and  he  had  galloped 
over  the  same  course  on  the  previous  morning. 

I  was  at  Rivenhall  when  I  heard  of  the  accident  to 
Willie,  and  for  six  unhappy  weeks  I  did  little  else  than 
watch  for  news  of  him.  My  sister,  Lady  Barrett-Len- 
nard,  and  Sir  Thomas  had  gone  to  Preston  Barracks 

33 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARXELL 

to  nurse  him,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  possible  they  moved 
him  to  their  own  house  in  Brighton.  For  six  weeks  he 
lay  unconscious,  and  then  at  last  the  good  news  came 
that  he  was  better,  and  that  they  were  going  to  take 
him  to  Belhus  to  convalesce. 

A  great  friend  of  Willie's,  also  in  the  18th  —  Robert 
Cunninghame  Graham  —  was  in\'ited  do^Ti  to  keep 
him  amused,  and  my  sister,  Mrs.  Steele,  and  I  met 
them  in  London  and  went  down  to  Belhus  with  them. 
WiUie  was  looking  verv^  ill,  and  was  tenderly  cared  for 
by  his  friend  Graham.  He  was  too  weak  to  speak, 
but,  while  dri\-ing  to  Belhus,  he  shpped  a  ring  from  his 
finger  on  to  mine  and  pressed  my  hand  under  cover  of 
the  rugs. 

Robert  Cunninghame  Graham,  uncle  of  Robert  Bon- 
tine  Cunninghame  Graham,  the  Socialist  writer  and 
traveller,  walked  straight  into  our  hearts,  so  gay,  so 
careful  of  WiUie  was  he,  and  so  utterly  bon  camarade, 
that  we  seemed  to  have  known  him  for  years.  In  a 
few  days  Anna  and  I  left  Belhus,  and  Wilhe's  father 
came  over  from  Ireland  to  stay  with  him  till  he  was 
completely  recovered. 

Before  Willie  left  I  was  back  at  Belhus  on  the  occa- 
sion of  a  dinner  party,  and  was  shyly  glad  to  meet  him 
again  and  at  his  desire  to  talk  to  me  only. 

While  the  others  were  all  occupied  singing  and  talk- 
ing after  dinner  we  sat  on  the  yellow  damask  sofa,  and 
he  shpped  a  gold  and  turquoise  locket  on  a  long  gold 
and  blue  enamel  chain  round  my  neck.  It  was  a  lovely 
thing,  and  I  was  veiry  happy  to  know  how  much  Wilhe 
cared  for  me. 


34 


CHAPTER  V 

A    MEMORY    OF    BRIGHTON 

"Bid,  oh!  the  fresh  icinds  of  the  sea. 

That  ru^h'd  and  roar'd  o'er  the  scudding  tide; 
And  oh!  for  those  hours  so  icildly  free 
When  we  stood  there  side  by  side."  —  A.  C.  Steele. 

My  sister  Anna  and  I  went  down  to  Brighton  for  change 
of  air  to  our  sister,  Lady  Lennard's  house.  She  and 
Sir  Thomas  were  away,  and  we  were  in  proud  posses- 
sion of  the  great,  tall  house  and  an  old  caretaker,  who 
was  to  look  after  us. 

We  were  very  happy  by  the  sea  all  day,  and  in  the 
evening  well  amused  by  Mr.  Cunninghame  Graham, 
who  was  now  back  at  Preston  Barracks,  having  left 
AYilhe  in  his  father's  care  at  Belhus. 

Cunninghame  Graham  was  solemnly  invited  to  come 
to  "dinner"  whenever  he  liked,  and  my  sister  and  I 
were  interested  observers  of  his  expression  when  he 
first  came.  Anna  and  I  had  decided  that  we  loved 
breakfast  and  hated  dinner,  so,  having  no  one  to  please 
but  ourselves,  we  "dined"  as  we  breakfasted,  on  bacon 
and  eggs  and  such  sort  of  early-morning  food. 

Mr.  Graham  was,  after  the  first  shock,  good  enough 
to  say  he  liked  our  late  breakfast,  and  certainly  he  as- 
sisted at  our  simple  feast  very  frequently.  Looking 
back.  I  think  he  was  very  greatly  attracted  by  my  sister 
Anna,  though,  as  she  was  already  married,  his  suit  was 
hopeless. 

35 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

In  the  evening  we  used  to  walk  in  the  Lewes  Cres- 
cent Gardens,  where  the  scent  of  the  wallflowers  and 
the  drowsy  swash  of  the  sea  lulled  us  into  desire  for 
sleep. 

One  evening  when  my  sister  and  I  were  preparing 
for  bed  there  was  a  sound  of  something  falling  on  the 
balcony.  Half  laughing,  and  half  frightened,  we  peeped 
out,  and  there  espied  two  lovely  bouquets  of  flowers. 
They  had  evidently  been  flung  up  from  the  road  below. 

After  a  breathless  consultation  we  cautiously  peered 
over  the  balcony,  and  saw  two  young  men  —  appar- 
ently gentlemen  —  gazing  up  to  see  the  effect  of  their 
floral  bombardment.  We  hastily  fled  back  into  the 
drawing-room  and  bolted  the  window,  with  some  vague 
idea  that  such  adventurous  spirits  might  turn  into  twin 
Romeos. 

We  must  have  looked  very  funny  sitting  up  in  bed 
that  night,  clasping  our  bouquets  and  bubbling  with 
laughter  at  our  unsought  conquest. 

The  next  evening,  each  trying  her  best  to  appear 
unconcerned,  we  hung  about  before  going  to  bed,  lis- 
tening for  the  gentle  thud  of  flowers  on  the  balcony. 
Again  two  bouquets  were  flung  up,  and  we  snatched 
them  in,  slamming  and  bolting  the  window,  and  shaking 
with  laughter. 

This  became  a  nightly  experience  for  a  week  or  more, 
and  then  Anna's  curiosity  could  bear  it  no  longer.  We 
dressed  her  up  as  a  maid  with  cap  and  apron  and  muffled 
her  face  up  to  "keep  her  toothache  from  the  wind." 
The  flowers  used  to  arrive  in  boxes  now,  and  were  taken 
out  of  these  and  flung  up  to  the  balcony  by  the  same 
young  men  nightly. 

At  a  signal  from  me,  when  I  spied  the  two  cavaliers 
rounding  the  corner  of  the  street,  the  "maid"  opened 

36 


A  MEMORY  OF  BRIGHTON 

the  front  door  and  went  stiffly  along,  as  an  elderly  maid 
should,  to  "post  some  letters."  As  we  had  hoped,  the 
two  men  fell  at  once  into  the  trap,  and  besought  the 
maid  to  take  the  flowers  in  to  her  young  ladies. 

She  was  properly  shocked  at  such  a  suggestion,  and 
said  it  was  as  much  as  her  place  was  worth  if  it  got  to 
"My  Lady's"  ears.  They  assured  her  that  the  flowers 
were  acceptable  to  the  young  ladies  and  that  her  lady's 
ears  need  not  be  assailed  by  the  knowledge,  that  the 
flowers  had  been  taken  in  every  evening,  and  that  it 
would  be  made  worth  her  while  to  do  them  such  a  little 
service.  She  exclaimed  at  the  deceitfulness  of  the 
young  ladies — "their  ma  away  and  all"  —  wavered 
and  capitulated,  staggering  into  the  door  armed  with 
two  enormous  bouquets,  a  handsome  tip  and  a  whole 
packet  of  verses. 

I  hastity  shut  the  door  behind  her,  and  she  fell  into 
my  arms  helpless  with  laughter.  I  was  half  cross  at 
having  been  out  of  the  fun,  but  soon  we  were  both  rock- 
ing with  laughter  over  the  "poetry,"  and  planning  how  to 
restore  the  "tip"  without  getting  into  further  mischief. 

The  men's  cards  were  in  the  bouquets,  and  from 
these  we  learned  that  they  were  brothers,  belonged  to 
a  good  London  club,  and  meant  to  pursue  us  to  the  end. 
We  met  them  frequently  out  of  doors  in  the  daytime, 
but  never  by  word  or  sign  recognised  them,  nor  allowed 
them  to  show  their  desire  to  salute  us. 

Anna  and  I  were  young  and  light-hearted  in  those 
days,  but  would  have  been  horrified  at  the  idea  of  al- 
lowing these  young  men  to  make  our  acquaintance  in 
such  a  way. 

When  I  contrast  the  girls  of  my  youth  with  those 
of  the  present  day  I  think  we  were  more  modest,  and 
decidedly  more  attractive! 

37 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

When  we  told  our  mother  (Lady  Wood)  about  the 
bouquets  and  the  rest  she  was  much  shocked  at  the 
thought  of  the  expense  the  bouquets  must  have  been, 
and  when  the  young  fellows  were  discovered  in  the 
grounds  at  Rivenhali,  waiting  again  with  messages  for 
the  "maid,"  she  had  them  sternly  warned  off,  and  yet, 
with  her  characteristic  dishke  of  our  being  under  any 
obligation  to  anyone,  sent  each  amorous  one  a  present. 

Our  mother  tried  to  show  us  the  indiscretion  of  our 
behaviour,  but  I  would  only  demurely  describe  the 
gallant  appearance  of  the  "tall  one,"  who  admired  me 
most,  while  Anna  would  chuckle  out  "as  much  as  my 
place  is  worth  if  it  comes  to  M' lady's  ears." 

Soon  Anna  and  I  were  startled  out  of  our  girlish  non- 
sense at  Brighton  by  receiving  a  telegram  giving  news 
of  our  mother  being  dangerously  ill.  The  message  came 
long  after  the  last  train  had  gone  to  London,  and,  in 
an  agony  of  suspense,  we  decided  to  walk  to  the  station 
in  the  early  morning  and  try  to  get  to  London  by  a 
workman's  train. 

W^hen  we  got  to  the  station  we  found  that  there  were 
no  means  of  getting  to  town  until  much  later.  We 
were  in  despair,  as  our  mother  was  said  to  be  dying, 
and  as  there  was  a  goods  train  on  the  point  of  depar- 
ture Anna  and  I  boldly  climbed  on  to  the  cab  of  the 
engine  and  begged  the  driver  and  stoker  to  let  us  go 
up  with  them.  Of  course,  they  refused,  but  so  half- 
heartedly, when  we  explained  and  they  saw  my  tear- 
stained  face,  that  we  persisted.  Still  saying  that  he 
could  not  possibly  do  it  the  driver  started  the  train, 
and  he  and  the  stoker  found  us  a  couple  of  sacks  to  sit 
upon,  and  kindly  served  us  with  their  own  hot  coffee. 
It  was  very  early  morning  in  late  autumn,  long  before 
it  was  hght,  and  as  we  sat  huddled  together  on  the 

38 


A  MEMORY  OF  BRIGHTON 

floor  of  the  cab  of  the  engine,  the  weird  journey,  the 
rush  through  the  dark  night  with  only  the  flare  of  the 
engine's  fire  to  hght  us,  lessened  the  tension  of  our 
anxiety  about  our  mother. 

On  arriving  in  London  we  caught  a  fast  train  to  Riv- 
enhall,  and  to  our  great  rehef  found  her  better. 

My  mother  and  I  went  to  Brighton  again  before  the 
18th  Hussars  left  Preston  Barracks.  She  hired  a  horse 
from  the  livery  stable  for  me,  so  that  Willie  and  I  had 
long  rides  over  the  Downs  together. 

One  day  Evelyn  came  down,  and  brought  his  beau- 
tiful chestnut  mare  down  with  him.  He  let  me  ride 
her,  and  as  we  were  getting  on  to  the  Downs  he  exclaimed, 
"You  ought  to  be  able  to  ride  well  by  this  time,"  and 
gave  the  already  excited  mare  a  flick  with  his  whip. 
She  galloped  away  with  me,  and  I  clung  helplessly  to 
her  until,  to  my  relief,  she  eventually  found  her  way 
to  her  stables  in  the  town. 

My  father  soon  wrote  to  say  how  dull  he  w^as  without 
us,  and  we  went  home.  I  had  become  tired  of  the  life 
at  Brighton,  and  was  glad  to  get  home  again. 

Willie's  father  died  in  London  early  in  the  next  year, 
and  we  did  not  meet  for  some  time  afterwards.  I 
think  I  saw  him  next  at  a  small  dance  I  was  taken  to 
by  some  friends,  and  I  did  not  recognise  him  at  first, 
as,  following  the  ugly  fashion  of  the  day,  he  had  grown 
whiskers.  He  monopolised  me  the  whole  evening,  and 
called  at  the  house  to  see  me  the  next  day. 

I  had  now  known  Willie  very  well  for  three  years, 
but  I  was  very  young,  and  a  curious  distaste  for  my 
"love  affair"  had  grown  up  within  me.  I  felt  a  desire 
to  be  left  free  and  untrammelled  by  any  serious  thoughts 
of  marriage;  and,  though  I  had  not  grown  to  dislike 
Willie,  I  wished  him  away  when  he  looked  fondly  at 

39 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

me,  and  half-consciously  I  longed  to  get  back  to  the 
days  when  men  were  httle  more  to  me  than  persons  to 
be  avoided  as  generally  wanting  something  to  be  fetched 
or  carried.  I  fancy  my  mother  understood  me  better 
than  anyone,  for  the  day  after  the  dance  she  inter- 
viewed Willie  when  he  came;  and  I  only  remember  a 
feeling  of  relief  as  he  merely  said  good-bye  to  me  in 
passing  down  the  stairs,  where  I  was  childishly  sitting, 
yawning  violently  to  attain  to  the  mistiness  of  outlook 
that  I  felt  was  expected  of  me! 

With  all  the  unreasonableness  of  girlhood  I  felt  a 
sudden  sense  of  regretful  vanity  that  Willie's  last  glimpse 
of  me  then  was  while  I  was  wearing  a  most  unbecoming 
black  silk  jacket,  much  too  large  for  me.  It  would 
have  been  so  much  more  romantic  to  send  him  away 
with  an  aching  remembrance  of  my  fresh  young  loveli- 
ness, perfectly  gowned! 

Willie,  I  heard,  went  to  Valencia,  and  we  saw  noth- 
ing of  him  for  a  long  time,  though  these  pretty  verses 
came  to  me  from  him :  — 


FAREWELL 

1. 

In  lightly  turning  o'er  this  page,  may  pause 

A  woman's  hand  awhile,  which  mine  hath  prest 

In  more  than  common  clasp;  for  here  I  was 
More  than  a  common  guest. 

2. 
Here,  at  the  casement  whence,  'mid  song  and  laughter. 
We  watch'd   the   buds   whose   bloom   should   deck   thy 
hair, 
Too  wise  to  cast  a  more  defined  thereafter  — 
Throughout  a  spring  so  fair. 

40 


A  MEMORY  OF  BRIGHTON 

3. 
Alone,  I  write  farewell  within  this  book. 

The  summer  sun  is  streaming  o'er  the  park; 
Oh,  for  the  sunshine  of  a  last  fond  look 

Over  a  heart  so  dark! 

4. 
Farewell!  I  know  not  if  a  merry  meeting 

For  such  a  parting  e'er  shall  make  amend. 
Harsh  words  have  stung  me;   is  their  venom  fleeting, 
Or  hurtful  to  the  end? 

W.  H.  O'Shea. 


41 


CHAPTER  VI 

MY    father's   death 

"And  the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding." 

The  following  autumn  my  father,  mother,  and  I  went 
to  stay  at  Belhus  on  a  long  visit,  my  father  going  to 
Cressing  each  week  for  the  Sunday  duty,  and  returning 
to  us  on  Monday  morning. 

We  all  enjoyed  spending  Christmas  at  Belhus.  My 
mother  and  my  sister  Emma  w^ere  devoted  to  one  an- 
other, and  loved  being  together.  We  were  a  much 
larger  party  also  at  Belhus,  and  there  were  so  many 
visitors  coming  and  going  that  I  felt  it  was  all  more 
cheerful  than  being  at  home. 

Among  other  visitors  that  winter,  I  well  remember 
Mr.  John  Morley  —  now  Lord  Morley  —  as  he  was  told 
off  to  me  to  entertain  during  the  day.  He  was  a  very 
brilliant  young  man,  and  my  elders  explained  to  me 
that  his  tense  intellect  kept  them  at  too  great  a  strain 
for  pleasurable  conversation.  "You,  dear  Katie,  don't 
matter,  as  no  one  expects  you  to  know  anything!"  re- 
marked my  sister  with  cheerful  kindness.  So  I  calmly 
invited  John  Morley  to  walk  with  me,  and,  as  we  paced 
through  the  park  from  one  lodge  to  the  other,  my  com- 
panion talked  to  me  so  easily  and  readily  that  I  forgot 
my  role  of  "fool  of  the  family,"  and  responded  most 
intelligently  to  a  really  very  interesting  conversation. 
With  the  ready  tact  of  the  really  clever,  he  could  al- 
ready adapt  himself  to  great  or  small,  and  finding  me 

42 


MY  FATHER'S  DEATH 

simply  ready  to  be  interested,  was  most  interesting, 
and  I  returned  to  my  family  happily  conscious  that  I 
could  now  afford  to  ignore  my  brother  Evelyn's  advice 
to  "look  lovely  and  keep  your  mouth  shut!" 

John  Morley,  so  far  as  I  remember  him  then,  was  a 
very  slight  young  man  with  a  hard,  keen  face,  the  feat- 
ures strongly  marked,  and  fair  hair.  He  had  (to  me) 
a  kindly  manner,  and  did  not  consider  it  beneath  him 
to  talk  seriously  to  a  girl  so  young  in  knowledge,  so 
excessively  and  shyly  conscious  of  his  superiority,  and 
so  much  awed  by  my  mission  of  keeping  him  amused 
and  interested  while  my  elders  rested  from  his  some- 
what oppressive  intellectuality.  I  remember  wondering, 
in  some  alarm,  as  to  what  topic  I  should  start  if  he 
suddenly  stopped  talking.  But  my  fear  was  entirely 
groundless;  he  passed  so  easily  from  one  thing  interest- 
ing to  me  to  another  that  I  forgot  to  be  self-conscious, 
and  we  discussed  horses  and  dogs,  books  and  their 
writers  —  agreeing  that  authors  were,  of  all  men,  the 
most  disappointing  in  appearance  —  my  father,  soldiers, 
and  "going  to  London,"  with  the  greatest  pleasure 
and  mutual  self-confidence.  And  I  think  that,  after 
that  enlightening  talk,  had  I  been  told  that  in  after 
years  this  suave,  clever  young  man  was  to  become  — 
as  Gladstone's  lieutenant  —  one  of  my  bitterest  foes,  I 
should  perhaps  have  been  interested,  but  utterly  un- 
alarmed,  for  I  had  in  this  little  episode  lost  all  awe  of 
cleverness  as  such. 

My  father  much  enjoyed  his  stroll  about  the  park 
and  his  quiet  hours  of  rest  in  the  soft  light  of  the  draw- 
ing-room at  Belhus  while  we  waited  for  dinner.  When 
Sir  John  was  with  him  his  kindly  son-in-law  always 
advanced  the  late  hour  he  liked  to  dine  to  an  earlier 
one  more  suited  to  my  father's  health,  and  the  memory 

43 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

of  never-failing  kindly  courtesies  such  as  this  were  a 
comfort  to  remember,  trivial  as  they  may  seem,  as  they 
soothed  the  everyday  life  of  one  who,  unknown  to  our- 
selves, was  slowly  leaving  us  for  ever.  Soon  my  father 
had  to  give  up  his  weekly  visits  to  Cressing,  and  grad- 
ually we  noticed  that  he  became  more  feeble  every  day 
with  the  continued  recurrence  of  low  fever,  which  left 
him  weakened  to  combat  the  sleepless,  feverish  nights. 
Then  came  a  time  when  he  could  not  bear  to  let  me  go 
out  of  his  sight,  and  for  a  fortnight  I  did  not  leave  him 
for  a  moment.  He  lay  so  still  and  quiet,  with  his  finely 
chiselled  face  and  white  hair,  and  looked  so  grand  and 
far  above  all  the  little  things  we  prized  for  his  comfort's 
sake. 

At  night  I  lay  on  a  sofa  at  the  foot  of  his  great  bed 
—  one  that  Queen  Elizabeth  slept  in  when  on  her  way 
from  Tilbury  to  London.  One  morning  he  called  me 
to  bring  some  writing  paper  and  write  down  what  he 
dictated,  and  I  did  so.  It  was  a  letter  to  Mr.  Gurdon 
Rebow  about  the  forthcoming  election,  in  which  my 
father  had  taken  a  great  interest.  The  next  day  I 
hoped  that  he  was  better,  and  he  asked  me  for  a  hand- 
glass. I  hesitated,  as  the  look  of  approaching  death 
was  so  evident  to  me,  and  I  feared  it  would  shock  him 
to  see  how  much  his  face  had  altered.  He  insisted, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  comply  lest  he  should  understand 
why  I  feared  to  give  it  to  him.  He  held  the  glass  in 
his  now  feeble  hand,  and  gazed  long  and  earnestly  at 
his  face,  then  gave  it  back  to  me  with  a  sigh. 

He  sank  swiftly,  and  the  days,  which  in  other  times 
might  have  appeared  to  pass  slowly,  when  the  serenity 
of  such  a  peaceful  life  might  have  been  monotonous, 
now  passed  all  too  soon. 

Towards  the  end,  Uncle  William  —  afterwards  Lord 

44 


^p«^ 


CAPTAIN    O  SHEA 

As  a  Cornet  in  the  18;h  Hussars 


MY  FATHER'S  DEATH 

Hatherley  (my  father's  brother)  —  came  and  prayed  by 
my  father's  side.  Kneehng  by  the  bedside,  holding  my 
father's  hand  and  mine  in  his,  he  whispered  to  me  to 
say  the  Lord's  Prayer  with  him.  We  said  it  together, 
my  father,  onlj^  just  conscious,  trying  to  follow.  When 
we  came  to  "Thy  will  be  done"  I  was  too  choked  with 
sobs  to  repeat,  or  to  feel  it,  but  my  uncle  was  insistent, 
and  a  faint  smile  passed  over  my  father's  face  as  he 
tried  to  press  his  fingers  in  my  hand.  We  waited  by 
the  bedside  for  some  time,  my  uncle  continuing  to  pray. 
Then  my  father's  hand  gently  relaxed  from  mine  in 
his  last  breath.  I  sank  upon  the  bed  by  his  side,  and 
the  doctor  came  in  from  the  next  room  and  carried 
me  out.  A  sedative  was  poured  down  my  throat,  and 
I  slept  heavily,  not  moving  again  till  I  opened  my  eyes 
to  see  Willie  and  my  sister  bending  over  my  bed. 

Willie  smiled  at  me,  and  pulled  out  of  his  pocket 
the  loveliest  little  King  Charles  spaniel  I  had  ever  seen, 
and  put  it  on  the  bed  to  distract  me.  I  was  too  much 
worn  out  and  miserable  to  wonder  at  the  presence  of 
Willie,  whom  I  believed  to  be  in  Madrid,  but  contented 
myself  with  curling  round  in  bed  with  my  new  treasure. 
Later  I  heard  that  Willie  had  been  telegraphed  for  by 
my  mother  and  sister  to  come,  as  they  feared  that, 
after  my  long  attendance  on  my  father,  I  should  fall 
ill  when  he  died. 

Willie  had  to  return  to  Spain  almost  at  once,  and 
we  were  a  very  sad  house  party  —  my  mother  white 
and  thin  and  terribly  broken  down  by  my  father's 
death.  I  used  to  sit  at  the  piano  hour  after  hour  play- 
ing to  her,  and  the  day  before  my  father  was  buried  I 
sat  extemporising  at  the  piano  to  prevent  her  hearing 
the  tramping  of  the  men  who  were  taking  my  father's 
coffin  up  the  stairs  to  the  room   where  he  lay.     My 

4.> 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

brother-in-law  had  the  coffin  made  from  an  old  oak 
tree  out  of  the  Belhus  park. 

Some  weeks  later  I  went  home  to  Rivenhall  by  my 
mother's  request  to  look  for  some  things  she  wanted 
out  of  my  father's  library  and  to  destroy  his  papers 
and  sermons,  as  I  had  promised  him  before  he  died.  I 
felt  some  difficulty  in  this,  as  I  feared  to  set  light  to 
the  old  house  in  burning  the  papers.  At  last  I  took 
them  down  to  the  lake  in  the  cold  winter  evening  and 
watched  them  as  they  slowly  sank,  heavily  weighted 
with  stones,  but  only  to  come  to  the  surface  again  in 
distant  and  darker  shadows.  The  moorhens  and  wild 
fowl  rose  with  weird  cries  as  they  found  their  shelter 
molested.  This  occupied  me  far  into  the  night  and  I 
returned  heart-sick  to  the  house  where  my  father's 
cheery  smile  and  genial  presence  would  greet  me  no 
more.  The  hall  was  only  ht  by  the  fire  of  the  dying 
logs,  and  the  large  house  seemed  cold  and  desolate. 
The  shadows  of  the  spreading  branches  of  the  cedar 
outside  the  drawing-room,  trailing  their  long  length 
across  the  lawn  and  over  the  window,  the  smell  of  the 
thickly-falling  spikes  giving  place  to  new  and  telling  of 
half -awakened  spring  filled  me  with  pain  and  loneliness. 

The  loss  of  my  father  was  my  first  real  sorrow,  and 
I  wandered  miserably  round  his  study,  where  every- 
thing was  as  he  had  left  it,  including  the  things  he  had 
so  lately  touched  —  the  letter-weight,  pressed  down  on 
the  answered  letters  and  those  now  never  to  be  an- 
swered; his  sermon  case;  his  surplice  folded  on  his  table 
ready  for  the  next  services  at  the  Church,  now  for  him 
never  to  take  place.  I  felt  that  I  could  not  bear  the 
sadness  and  longing  for  him,  and  as  soon  as  I  could  I 
returned  to  the  warmer  glow  of  the  family  circle  at 
Belhus.     There  I  found  that  the  vexed  question  of  ways 

46 


MY  FATHER'S  DEATH 

and  means  —  always  a  vexed  question  in  a  clergyman's 
household  when  the  head  of  the  house  dies  —  was  pressing 
heavily  on  my  mother,  who  was  left  almost  penniless 
by  my  father's  death. 

My  mother  and  sisters  were  still  discussing  what 
was  best  to  be  done,  and  my  mother  was  speaking 
sadly  as  I  went  into  her  room.  "We  must  sell  the  cow, 
and,  of  course,  the  pig,"  my  eldest  sister  (Emma)  re- 
plied in  her  sweet,  cheerful  voice,  which  produced  a 
little  laugh,  though  a  rather  dismal  one,  and  our  sorrow 
was  chased  away  for  the  moment. 

My  mother's  sister,  Mrs.  Benjamin  Wood,  on  hear- 
ing of  her  troubles,  settled  a  yearly  income  on  her,  thus 
saving  her  from  all  future  anxiety,  most  of  her  children 
being  provided  for  under  our  grandfather's  —  old  Sir 
Matthew  Wood's  —  will. 


47 


CHAPTER  VII 

MY   MARRIAGE 

*'  Fair  shine  the  day  on  the  house  loith  open  door; 
Birds  come  and  cry  there  and  tioitter  in  the  chimney. 
But  I  go  for  ever  and  come  again  no  more."  —  Stevenson. 

My  father  died  in  February,  1866,  and  during  that 
year  we  Hved  chiefly  at  Rivenhall.  It  was  a  very  quiet, 
sad  year,  but  we  had  a  few  pleasant  visitors.  Sir  George 
Dasent,  of  the  Times,  and  also  Mr.  Dallas,  who  wrote 
leading  articles  for  the  same  paper,  were  frequent  vis- 
itors, and  Mr.  Chapman  (of  Chapman  and  Hall,  pub- 
lishers), with  pretty  Mrs.  Chapman,  Mr.  Lewes,  and 
many  other  literary  people  were  very  welcome  guests. 
My  mother  and  sister  Anna  (Mrs.  Steele)  were  writing 
books,  and  much  interested  in  all  things  literary.  At 
the  end  of  the  year  we  joined  my  eldest  sister  and  her 
husband  at  Brighton,  and  soon  after  this  Willie  returned 
from  Spain  and  called  on  us  at  once,  with  the  ever- 
faithful  Cunninghame  Graham.  I  now  yielded  to  Wil- 
lie's protest  at  being  kept  waiting  longer,  and  we  were 
married  very  quietly  at  Brighton  on  January  25,  1867. 
I  narrowly  escaped  being  married  to  Mr.  Cunninghame 
Graham  by  mistake,  as  Willie  and  he  —  the  "best  man" 
—  had  got  into  wrong  positions.  It  was  only  Mr. 
Graham's  horrified  "No,  no,  no,"  when  asked  whether  he 
would  have  "this  woman"  to  be  his  wife,  that  saved  us 
from  many  complications. 

My   mother,   brothers   and   sisters    gave   me   beauti- 

48 


MY  MARRIAGE 

ful  presents,  and  my  dear  sister  Emma  gave  me  my 
trousseau,  while  Willie  himself  gave  me  a  gold-mounted 
dressing-bag.  My  old  Aunt  H.  sent  me  a  gold  and 
turquoise  bracelet.  Willie  saw  this  after  I  had  shown 
him  what  my  sister  Mrs.  Steele  had  given  me  —  a  car- 
buncle locket  with  diamond  centre.  Aunt  H.  was  a 
very  wealthy  woman,  my  sister  not  at  all  well  off,  though 
in  any  case  her  present  would  have  been  much  more 
to  me  than  that  of  Aunt  H.  However,  Willie  merely 
remarked  of  Anna's  gift:  "That  is  lovely,  darling, 
and  this,"  taking  up  Aunt  H's  bracelet,  "'this  will  do 
for  the  dog,"  snapped  it  round  the  neck  of  my  little 
Prince. 

Long  afterwards  he  and  I  went  to  call  on  Aunt  H., 
and  as  usual  I  had  Prince  under  my  arm.  I  noticed 
Aunt  H.  break  off  in  a  sentence,  and  fix  a  surprised 
and  indignant  eye  on  my  dog.  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  Prince's  collar  being  Aunt  II. 's  bracelet,  and 
only  thought  she  did  not  like  my  bringing  the  dog  to 
call,  till  I  caught  W^illie's  eye.  He  had  at  once  taken 
in  the  situation,  and  became  so  convulsed  with  laughter 
that  I  hastily  made  my  adieu  and  hustled  him  off. 

Sir  Seymour  Fitzgerald  lent  us  Holbrook  Hall  for 
our  honeymoon,  a  kindness  that  proved  unkind,  as 
the  pomp  and  ceremony  entailed  by  a  large  retinue  of 
servants  for  our  two  selves  were  very  wearisome  to 
me.  There  was  little  or  no  occupation  for  us,  as  the 
weather  was  too  bad  to  get  out  much;  our  kind  host 
had  naturally  not  lent  us  his  hunters,  and  we  were, 
or  Willie  was,  too  much  in  awe  of  the  conventions  to 
ask  anyone  to  come  and  relieve  our  ennui.  Indeed, 
I  think  that  no  two  young  people  were  ever  more  re- 
joiced than  we  were  when  we  could  return  to  the  life 
of  the  sane  without  comment. 

49 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Willie  had  sold  out  of  the  army  just  before  his  mar- 
riage, and  his  Uncle  John,  who  had  married  a  Spanish 
lady  and  settled  in  Madrid,  offered  Willie  a  partner- 
ship in  his  bank,  O'Shea  and  Co.,  if  he  would  put  the 
£4,000  he  received  for  his  commission  into  it.  This 
was  too  good  an  offer  to  be  refused,  so  I  said  good-bye 
to  my  people,  and  bought  some  little  presents  for  the 
servants  at  home,  including  a  rich  silk  dress  for  my  old 
nurse  Lucy,  who  had  been  in  my  mother's  service  since 
the  age  of  sixteen,  and  who  was  much  upset  that  her 
youngest  and  dearest  nursling  should  be  taken  away  to 
such  "heathenish,  far-off  places." 

Before  leaving  England  Willie  and  I  stayed  for  a  few 
days  in  London,  and  his  mother  and  sister  Mary  called 
on  us.  They  had  not  attended  the  marriage,  as  they 
would  not  lend  their  countenance  to  a  "mixed"  marriage, 
though  once  accomplished  they  accepted  the  situation. 
They  were  very  nice  and  kind,  and  so  gently  superior 
that  at  once  I  became  politely  antagonistic.  They 
brought  me  some  beautiful  Irish  poplins  which  were 
made  into  gowns  to  wear  in  Madrid  to  impress  the 
Spanish  cousins,  and  a  magnificent  emerald  bracelet, 
besides  £200  worth  of  lovely  Irish  house-linen.  My 
mother-in-law  and  sister-in-law  were  most  generous 
indeed,  and  I  then,  and  always,  acknowledged  them 
to  be  thoroughly  good,  kind-hearted  women,  but  so 
hidebound  with  what  was,  to  me,  bigotry,  with  con- 
ventionality and  tactlessness,  that  it  was  really  a  pain 
to  me  to  be  near  them.  They  admired  me,  and  very 
plainly  disapproved  of  me;  I  admired  them  for  their 
Parisian  finish  —  (for  want  of  a  better  term)  —  and  for 
their  undoubted  goodness,  but,  though  I  was  rather 
fond  of  Mary,  they  wearied  me  to  death. 

That  week  we  crossed  over  to  Boulogne,  and  there 

50 


MY  MARRIAGE 

we  had  to  stay  for  a  few  days,  as  I  was  too  ill  from 
the  crossing  to  go  farther.  Then  we  went  to  Paris, 
and  the  second  morning  Willie,  seeing  I  was  better, 
wanted  to  go  out  to  dejeuner^  and  told  me  to  lie  still 
in  bed,  and  he  would  tell  them  to  send  a  maid  with 
my  food,  as  he  knew  that  I,  not  being  used  to  French 
customs,  would  not  like  a  waiter  to  bring  it.  To  make 
sure  of  my  not  being  disturbed  he  locked  the  door. 
To  my  horror  half  an  hour  after  he  had  gone  there 
was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  a  manservant  opened  it 
with  his  key,  and  marched  in,  despite  my  agitated 
protests  in  very  home-made  French.  Once  in,  however, 
he  made  me  so  comfortable  by  his  deft  arrangement 
of  a  most  tempting  meal  and  paternal  desire  that  "Ma- 
dame should  eat  and  recover  herself,"  that  I  v>^as  able 
to  laugh  at  Willie's  annoyance  on  his  return  to  find 
the  waiter  once  more  in  possession  and  removing  the 
tray. 

We  then  went  to  Paris  to  stay  with  my  mother-in- 
law  and  Mary  for  a  few  days,  while  they  found  me  a 
French  maid  and  showed  me  the  sights.  I  had  a  great 
quantity  of  very  long  hair  in  those  days,  and  Willie 
insisted  on  my  having  it  very  elaborately  dressed  — 
much  to  my  annoyance  —  in  the  latest  French  fashion, 
which  I  did  not  consider  becoming  to  me.  My  maid 
was  also  much  occupied  in  making  the  toilet  of  my 
little  dog.  He  was  a  lovely  little  creature,  and  Caroline 
would  tie  an  enormous  pale  blue  bow  on  him  as  a  re- 
ward for  the  painful  business  of  combing  him.  From 
the  time  Willie  gave  me  this  little  dog  to  the  day  it 
died,  about  six  years  afterwards,  it  went  everywhere 
with  me.  He  was  as  good  and  quiet  as  possible  when 
with  me,  but  if  I  ever  left  him  for  a  moment  the  shrill 
little  howls  would  ring  out  till  the  nearest  person  to 

51 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

him  would  snatch  him  up,  and  fly  to  restore  him  to  his 
affectionate,  though  long-suffering,  mistress. 

At  Paris  there  was  trouble  with  my  mother-in-law 
and  Mary  at  once  because  of  him.  They  took  me  to 
see  Notre  Dame,  and  as  a  matter  of  course  Prince  was 
in  my  arm  under  my  cloak.  As  we  came  out  I  let  my 
little  dog  down  to  run,  and  the  Comtesse  nearly  fainted. 
"You  took  the  dog  into  the  church!  Oh,  Katie,  how 
wrong,  how  could  you!     Mary!  v/hat  shall  we  do.^^     Do 

you  not  think  ^ V^  and  turning  a  reproachful  glance 

on  me,  Mary  responded,  "Come,  mother,"  and,  leav- 
ing me  amazed  and  indignant  on  the  steps,  they  passed 
into  Notre  Dame  again.  With  some  curiosity  I  peeped 
in  after  them,  and  beheld  them  kneeling  at  prayer  just 
inside  the  door.  They  came  out  almost  at  once,  and 
the  old  Comtesse  looked  happier.  "You  did  not  un- 
derstand, dear,"  said  Mary  kindly,  "it  is  better  not  to 
take  the  little  dog  into  a  church."  I  was  young  enough 
to  resent  being  told  I  did  not  understand,  and  promptly 
returned,  "I  understand,  Mary,  that  you  and  the  Com- 
tesse consider  it  wicked  to  take  Prince  into  Notre  Dame. 
Well,  I  don't,  and  you  must  excuse  me  if  I  remind  you 
that  God  made  the  dog;  and  I  seem  to  remember  some- 
thing about  a  Child  that  was  born  in  a  stable  with  a 
lot  of  nice  friendly  beasts  about,  so  you  need  not  have 
gone  back  to  pray  about  me  and  Prince,  I  think!" 
And,  scooping  up  Prince,  I  stalked  off  with  a  dignity 
that  was  rather  spoilt  by  my  not  having  sufficient  French 
to  find  my  own  way  home,  and  having  to  wait  at  the 
carriage  for  them.  We  drove  home  with  much  stiff- 
ness, and  only  thawed  sufficiently  to  assure  Willie  how 
much  we  had  enjoyed  ourselves! 

W  hile  I  was  abroad  I  often  used  to  get  away  by  my- 
self to  spend  many  happy  hours  in  the  beautiful  churches 

52 


MY  MARRIAGE 

with  Prince  tucked  under  my  arm,  and  often  a  friendly 
old  priest  would  give  us  a  smile  as  he  passed  on  his  way 
about  the  church,  so  it  was  apparently  not  a  very  deadly 
sin  to  take  him  w^ith  me. 

Willie's  mother  and  Mary  became  more  reconciled 
to  the  little  dog  when  they  found  how  much  admired 
he  was  in  Paris.  An  old  Frenchman,  after  seeing  him 
one  evening  as  Willie  and  I  were  leaving  table  d'hote, 
made  inquiries  as  to  where  we  were  staying,  and  called 
on  Willie  to  offer  £100  for  "madame's  pet"  if  at  any 
time  she  wished  to  sell  him.  Willie  was  too  wise  to 
approach  me  with  the  offer,  and  assured  monsieur  that 
madame  would  consider  the  offer  an  insult  only  to  be 
wiped  out  in  monsieur's  blood! 

Happy  in  the  knowledge  that  I  looked  extremely 
pretty  in  the  gift  —  and  peace  offering  —  of  my  sister- 
in-law,  a  Parisian  bonnet,  exactly  the  size  and  shape  of 
a  cheese  plate,  made  of  white  lace,  wreathed  with  pink 
roses  and  tied  under  my  chin  with  pale  blue  ribbon 
(the  very  latest  fashion  of  the  moment),  we  said  good- 
bye to  the  Comtesse,  Mary,  and  their  friends  and  went 
on  to  Biarritz.  Our  bedroom  and  sitting-room  here 
looked  out  over  the  sea,  and  my  delight  was  great  when 
I  found  that  the  great  waves  were  breaking  on  the 
rocks  just  under  the  French  windows  of  my  bedroom. 
My  pleasure  in  this  was  much  intensified  a  few  days 
after  arrival,  as  I  developed  whooping  cough,  and  had 
to  lie  in  bed  for  weeks  with  that  and  pneumonia.  The 
English  doctor  had  some  difficulty  in  patching  me  up, 
but  all  through  I  was  conscious  of  the  roar  of  the  waves 
as  they  hurled  themselves  against  the  beach  and  cov- 
ered my  window  with  spray.  The  sound  of  the  sea 
soothed  me  to  sleep  when  opiates  could  not,  and  in  the 
restless  dawn  I  was  wakened  by  the  jingle  of  the  bells 

.53 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

on  the  donkeys  as  they  were  driven  in  to  the  hotel  yard 
to  be  milked.  These  donkeys  were  driven  in  from 
Bayonne,  as  asses'  milk  was  the  only  nourishment  I 
could  take  then. 

While  I  was  getting  better  a  chambermaid  of  the 
hotel,  a  Basque  girl,  who  was  my  devoted  nurse  through- 
out my  illness,  would  talk  to  me  in  her  native  patois 
of  her  hopes  and  fears,  and  of  what  she  and  her  lover 
meant  to  do  when  they  could  marry.  I  used  to  love 
her  pretty,  kind  face  and  her  well-brushed  brown  hair, 
in  which  was  twisted  a  bright  coloured  handkerchief, 
in  the  fashion  of  her  country. 

My  convalescence  was  a  pleasant  time,  and  I  could 
have  lived  on  the  great  red  cherries  my  kindly  nurse 
brought  in  such  quantities.  W^e  parted  with  real  re- 
gret, and  I  gave  the  girl  a  beautiful  ring  off  my  finger, 
greatly  pleasing  her  kind  heart  thereby. 

Wilhe,  on  the  long  walks  he  took  during  my  illness, 
made  some  really  good  sketches  of  the  places  around 
Biarritz,  and  when  I  was  able  to  go  out  we  took  long 
drives  in  the  neighbourhood  through  winding  wooded 
roads,  the  sea  showing  its  boundless  grandeur  through 
the  tall  trees  on  the  broken  chff. 

The  Due  de  San  Luca,  a  cousin  of  Wilhe's,  used  to 
come  in  the  evening  to  play  to  me.  He  was  a  fine 
musician,  and  his  beautiful  touch  used  to  make  even 
the  not  too  good  piano  of  the  hotel  sing  with  greater 
sweetness  and  power  than  it  could  have  known  before. 

The  Due  de  San  Luca  was  at  that  time  a  handsome 
man,  with  clear-cut  features  and  curly  white  hair.  He 
had  great  charm  of  manner,  and,  like  so  many  of  the 
O'Sheas,  had  much  of  the  elaborate  courtesy  of  the 
foreigner  combined  with  the  charming  friendliness  of  the 
Irishman.     Though  no  longer  young,  he  was  a  noted 

54 


MY  MARRIAGE 

athlete,  and  showed  me  with  some  pride  where  for  a 
wager  he  had  swum  from  headland  to  headland,  tossed 
in  the  rough  Atlantic  sea.  It  was  a  feat  of  great  endur- 
ance, and  one  that  no  other  man  had  succeeded  in  till 
then. 

On  our  journey  to  Madrid  the  scenery  interested 
me  greatly,  the  lank  fir  trees  with  cups  tied  on  them 
to  catch  the  exudations  of  resin,  the  vineyards  with 
all  their  profusion  of  promise,  with  the  glorious  sunrise 
and  the  curious  "halt"  of  sunset  were  wonderful  to 
my  untravelled  mind. 

As  the  train  neared  Hendaye  I  awakened  to  the 
most  exquisite  sunrise  I  have  ever  seen,  vivid  hues 
of  crimson-purple,  blue  and  orange-grey  bathing  the 
town,  with  its  distant  fringe  of  trees,  in  a  flood  of  light, 
and  crowning  the  shadowed  mountains  in  glory. 


55 


CHAPTER  VIII 

LIFE    IN   MADRID 

^^  Lending  the  colour  of  romance 
To  every  trivial  circumstance." 

On  our  arrival  at  Madrid  in  the  evening  we  were  met, 
to  my  annoyance,  by  many  of  my  new  Spanish  rela- 
tions. I  was  very  tired,  having  been  in  the  train  for 
two  days  and  nights,  and  felt  dusty  and  untidy  in  an 
old  lace  bonnet  with  a  red  rose  stuck  rakishly  on  one 
side.  Prince,  my  little  dog,  was  also  very  tired,  and 
disinclined  to  respond  with  any  cheerfulness  to  the 
Spanish  tongue  which  assailed  us  on  every  side. 

Wilhe's  aunt,  Isabella  O'Shea,  a  handsome,  stout 
woman  with  large  dark  eyes  and  a  kindly  manner, 
and  her  two  daughters  were  there.  They,  of  course, 
were  cool  and  fresh,  and  their  pretty  lace  mantillas 
contrasted  well  with  my  dustj^  train-worn  headgear. 

They  embraced  me  affectionately  and  promptly  in- 
troduced a  tall,  regular-featured  Spaniard  as  the  great 
doctor  of  Madrid.  I  supposed  he  must  be  another 
cousin,  and  looked  at  Willie  for  enlightenment.  He, 
however,  only  looked  annoyed,  and  suggested  making 
a  start  for  our  hotel. 

On  arrival  my  aunt  told  me,  through  Willie,  that, 
as  she  was  sure  I  should  be  very  tired,  she  had  asked 

Dr. to  come  to  meet  us,  and  to  see  me  after  I  was 

in  bed.  I  fear  our  interview  must  have  proved  unsatis- 
factory, as  he  could  only  speak  Spanish,  and  I  was  too 

56 


LIFE  IN  MADRID 

cross  and  tired  even  to  try  to  remember  the  little  that 
Willie  had  taught  me.  Wilhe  at  last  came  to  the  rescue 
and  drove  him  off,  letting  in  the  aunt  and  cousins,  who 
all  kissed  me  again.  They  were  the  last  straw,  and  I 
said,  with  a  polite  smile  to  Willie:  "If  you  don't  take  all 
these  people  away  at  once  I  shall  howl."  He  franti- 
cally told  his  aunt  that  he  was  hungry,  and  with  little 
cries  and  guttural  sounds  of  consternation  they  took 
him  away  to  feed  him  and  left  me  in  peace. 

When  all  was  quiet  in  the  hotel  and  street,  and  Wil- 
lie, back  again,  was  sleeping  peacefully,  I  crept  out  of 
bed  into  our  sitting-room,  glad  to  look  about  in  the 
bright  moonlight,  now  I  was  free  from  the  presence  of 
so  many  strangers.  I  opened  the  balcony  window,  and 
the  noise  I  made,  though  very  slight,  was  sufficient  to 
startle  the  wild  dogs  in  the  street  feeding  on  the  refuse 
flung  out  from  the  houses.  They  looked  so  starved  and 
miserable  as  they  gazed  up  at  me,  snarling  and  showing 
their  very  white  teeth,  that  I  thought  they  must  be 
wolves  from  the  mountains  rather  than  dogs.  At  day- 
light they  stole  off  to  their  hiding  places,  and  never  ap- 
proached anyone,  or  suffered  themselves  to  be  touched. 

The  next  morning  I  was  up  early,  anxious  to  see  the 
city  where  all  was  new  to  me.  Willie  told  me  that 
—  as  was  the  custom  in  Madrid  in  the  hot  weather  — 
our  relatives  would  not  be  visible  till  the  eveniiig.  Ho 
tried  to  curb  my  ardour  by  quoting  a  Spanish  proverb, 
"Only  the  English  and  dogs  go  out  in  the  day,"  but  it 
did  not  depress  me,  and  I  insisted  that  I  would  join  the 
"dogs"  at  once.  He  pointed  out  that  he  did  not  want 
to  get  up,  and  that  Spanish  girls  did  not  go  out  unchap- 
eroned.  By  the  time  I  had  assured  him  that  marriage 
made  a  difference,  and  that  anyhow  I  was  English,  not 
Spanish,  he  was  asleep  again,  and  I  slipped  out  to  explore. 

57 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Downstairs  I  found  a  man  with  melancholy  eyes, 
to  whom  I  let  off  a  sentence  that  Willie  had  taught 
me,  as  being  always  likely  to  produce  a  sufficiency  of 
food  if  I  was  alone  and  hungry  in  Spain.  The  melan- 
choly one  bowed  profoundly,  and  I  waited  with  some 
nervousness  to  see  what  would  happen  in  the  way  of 
food.  Another  waiter  came,  bowed,  and  said  some- 
thing which  sounded  reproachful,  though  polite,  but 
I  firmly  repeated  my  sentence,  and,  after  another  bow 
and  a  helpless  rolling  of  the  eyes,  he  also  disappeared. 
In  a  few  moments  a  delicious  meal  arrived  —  hot  coffee, 
eggs,  poached  with  a  peculiar  cage  pattern  over  them, 
and  French  rolls.  So  I  had  a  very  good  meal,  quite 
undisturbed  by  the  quiet  peeps  and  guttural  whispers 
of  the  servants,  who  passed  constantly  by  the  door  to 
see  the  mad  Enghsh  seiiora  who  insisted  on  making  a 
good  breakfast. 

Then,  after  a  long  wandering,  from  the  radiance 
of  the  Puerta  del  Sol  to  the  Carrera  de  San  Jeronimo 
leading  to  hght  and  open  spaces,  I  found  the  streets, 
that  had  been  so  full  of  life  when  we  drove  from  the 
station  the  evening  before,  absolutely  deserted,  except 
for  a  few  men,  chiefly  gaily-dressed  peasants  in  from 
the  mountains,  lying  asleep  in  the  shadow  of  the  door- 
ways. 

The  pavements  seemed  to  burn  my  feet,  though 
the  air  did  not  feel  so  breathless  to  me  as  on  a  hot  day 
at  home,  and  I  eventually  found  shelter  in  the  Prado 
Gallery.  The  fashionable  time  for  walking  in  the  Prado 
was  from  midnight  onwards,  and  W^ilhe  had  joined  his 
relations  the  night  before,  so  I  knew  I  could  count  on  a 
long  morning  to  myself  among  the  pictures. 

That  evening,  after  WiUie  had  expressed  satisfaction 
at  my  attire  of  bright  blue  poplin  and  of  the  diamond 

58 


LIFE  IN  MADRID 

star  in  my  hair,  we  strolled  up  to  the  Puerta  del  Sol 
to  the  cousins'  house,  and  found  the  porter  and  his 
wife  taking  their  evening  meal,  consisting  apparently 
of  little  else  than  garlic,  in  their  stone  room  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  house.  They  eagerly  welcomed  me  as 
the  new  relation  of  the  Senor  and  Seiiora  whom  they 
served,  and  then  allowed  us  to  proceed  upstairs,  ring- 
ing a  bell  to  announce  our  coming.  On  our  arrival  up- 
stairs a  large  door  was  flung  open,  and  I  was  presented 
to  those  of  the  cousins  I  had  not  seen  before  and  a  crowd 
of  their  friends. 

It  was  a  very  large  party  invited  to  honour  me,  and 
they  were  all  most  warm  in  their  greetings,  the  ladies 
kissing  me  on  the  cheek  and  the  men  my  hand.  I  was 
pleased  and  excited  at  my  reception,  but  rather  bored 
at  the  amount  of  embracing  I  had  to  go  through. 
These  cousins  of  his  were  very  fond  of  Willie,  and  I 
was  naturally  gratified  at  their  very  obvious  admira- 
tion of  his  bride.  The  strangeness  of  the  scene  made 
me  feel  gay  and  animated,  and  enabled  me  to  throw 
off  the  shyness  which  would  otherwise  have  overcome 
me  in  being  the  centre  of  interest  to  all  these  strangers 
whose  language  I  did  not  understand. 

The  two  daughters  were  very  graceful  girls,  and  the 
eyes  of  the  elder,  Margharita,  were  a  perfect  glow  in 
her  face.  She  was  very  lovely  and  wholly  Spanish  in 
appearance,  though  without  that  touch  of  heaviness 
in  the  lower  part  of  the  face  that  so  many  Spanish  women 
have.  The  younger  sister,  Pepita,  was  more  facile  in 
expression,  but,  though  pretty,  did  not  possess  the  strik- 
ing beauty  of  Margharita.  She  was  much  more  lively 
than  her  sister,  who  was  in  a  state  of  dreamy  happi- 
ness at  the  presence  of  the  young  Spaniard  to  whom  she 
was  about  to  be  betrothed. 

59 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Of  all  the  boy  cousins  who  were  present  —  the  eldest, 
Guielmo,  being  away  with  his  regiment  —  I  was  par- 
ticularly charmed  by  Enrico,  a  dark,  handsome  lad,  who 
came  forward  and  offered  me  a  crimson  carnation,  to 
the  delighted  approval  of  his  family.  He,  like  the  rest, 
could  only  speak  Spanish,  but  he  did  not  even  do  that, 
only  with  the  most  charming  air  of  homage  presented 
the  flower,  and,  though  flushing  rather  hotly  at  the 
noisy  approval  of  his  relations,  retired  gracefully  and 
unabashed. 

Willie  interpreted,  but  they  were  all  so  kind  it  was 
easy  to  make  myself  understood.  The  only  one  of  the 
family  who  reminded  me  of  their  Irish  blood  was  a 
younger  boy,  Juan,  I  think,  who  had  very  fair  hair  and 
skin  and  very  blue  eyes. 

John  O'Shea,  the  father,  was  a  typical  Irishman, 
with  curly  brown-grey  hair  and  Irish  blue  eyes,  a  good- 
looking  man  of  quick  wit  and  attractive  smile.  He 
was  an  inveterate  gambler,  and  his  card-playing  for 
heavy  stakes  was  a  perpetual  distress  to  his  Spanish 
wife  and  all  the  family,  though  he  was  an  extraordi- 
narily good  player,  and  his  luck  proverbial.  His  fear  of 
cholera  was  an  obsession  with  him,  and  Willie  had  told 
me  not  to  mention  the  word  in  his  presence.  A  neces- 
sary warning,  as  rumours  of  cholera  were  as  prevalent 
in  that  year  as  those  of  the  expected  revolution,  and 
made  an  easy  topic  of  conversation. 

I  created  quite  a  sensation  in  a  mild  way  at  dinner 
by  asking  for  salt,  as  I  was  quite  unconscious  that  at 
that  time  the  tax  on  it  in  Spain  was  so  great  that  salt 
was  portioned  out  with  the  greatest  care,  even  in  the 
v\^ealthiest  families. 

I  remember  I  spoke  with  horror  to  Willie,  that  night, 
of  the  table  manners  of  his  relations,  and  he  was  much 

60 


LIFE  IN  MADRID 

amused,  informing  me  that  the  sanitary  habits  of  the 
toothpick  and  of  washing  out  the  mouth  after  dinner 
were  a  national  custom  both  for  men  and  women.  Dur- 
ing my  stay  in  Spain  I  found  it  was  so,  but  I  never  be- 
came reconciled  to  it. 

Earher  in  the  evening  of  next  day,  in  mantillas  and 
armed  with  fans,  my  aunt  and  cousins  took  me  to  see 
the  various  places  of  interest.  Willie  showed  me  the 
palace  where  Queen  Isabella  still  reigned,  and  where, 
much  to  my  astonishment,  weeds  were  growing  up  be- 
tween the  flagstones  of  the  courtyard,  and  we  waited 
to  see  Her  Majesty  as  she  drove  out  with  her  beauti- 
fully strong,  well-groomed  mules  in  their  richly  col- 
oured harness.  The  trappings  of  the  old-world  usage 
were  always  popular,  and  raised  enthusiasm  wherever 
the  Queen  drove,  her  people  willing  to  be  pleased  with 
externals  as  long  as  they  could. 

I  much  admired  the  grace  of  the  women  and  the 
dark,  animated  beauty  of  their  e3^es  and  the  flash  of 
white  teeth  as  they  smiled  in  greeting.  The  men  did 
not  appeal  to  me  so  much,  and  compared  to  disadvan- 
tage, in  my  eyes,  with  Englishmen  and  Irishmen;  but 
the  women  fascinated  me. 

My  poor  little  dog  hated  these  walks,  as  the  Spaniards 
walk  so  slowly,  and  Prince  would  have  been  ruthlessly 
trodden  upon  if  I  had  not  carried  him  in  the  crowd. 
He  had  been  so  spoilt  in  France  and  suffered  from  the 
lack  of  appreciation  he  met  with  from  the  Spanish. 

I  was  introduced  to  Robert  Owens,  another  cousin 
of  Willie's.  He  was  altogether  Irish,  and  looked  it, 
and,  though  a  charming  acquaintance,  was  only  note- 
worthy as  being  the  only  man,  Willie  said,  who  ivould 
drink  beer  —  and  much  beer  —  in  Spain.  The  air,  so 
pure  and  rarefied,   seems   to  take  away  all  desire  for 

61 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

strong  drink,  and  I  remember  that  I  never  saw  anyone 
in  the  sHghtest  degree  the  worse  for  it  during  my  stay 
in  Spain.  WilKe,  who  knew  Madrid  —  and  most  of 
Spain  —  as  well  as  he  knew  London,  told  me  that  he 
had  only  once  seen  a  drunken  man  in  Spain,  and  he  was 
an  Irishman. 

The  political  horizon  was  very  black  in  Madrid  at 
this  time,  and  there  was  constant  unrest  among  the 
people.  Even  the  mere  discussion  of  politics  led  to 
interesting  little  mock  revolutions  in  cabarets,  at  street 
corners,  in  the  regiments,  and  in  the  schools;  and  more 
than  once,  while  we  were  walking  quietly  in  the  Prado, 
shots  and  wild  cries  rang  out,  and  in  sudden  panic  the 
gay  promenaders  would  fly  in  all  directions. 

One  evening  a  volley  of  bullets  fell  among  us,  and 
Willie,  catching  up  Prince  and  seizing  my  hand,  made 
me  run  hard  up  queer  little  side  streets  to  our  hotel. 

As  we  were  passing  up  to  our  rooms  we  were  told 
that  two  ministerial  buildings  had  been  attacked;  and 
there  was  much  galloping  of  soldiers  through  the  streets, 
while  the  Prime  Minister  went  past  at  the  head  of  a 
troop.  Willie  went  out  only  to  find  all  quiet,  and  this 
slight  outbreak  of  the  Republicans  over.  These  little 
disturbances  became  very  frequent  before  we  left  Spain, 
but  they  did  not  cause  me  much  alarm,  as  I  was  sufii- 
ciently  young  to  consider  it  all  very  picturesque  and 
interesting. 

About  this  time  Margharita  O'Shea  was  formally  be- 
trothed to  her  future  husband,  and  Willie  and  I  attended 
the  ceremony.  There  was  a  very  large  gathering  of 
relations  and  friends.  She  looked  very  lovely,  but  pale 
as  usual,  and  the  crimson  carnations  I  pinned  into  her 
hair  made  the  contrast  needed  to  render  her  strikingly 
beautiful.     The   ceremony   was   very   simple,   the   bride 

62 


LIFE  IN  MADRID 

and  bridegroom-elect  plighting   their   troth,   and,   after 
the  festivities,  returning  to  their  parents'  homes. 

My  favourite  walk  was  to  the  Retiro,  where  the  gar- 
dens were  very  large  and  beautiful,  the  acacia  trees  in 
full  bloom  filling  the  air  with  delicious  scent.  These 
gardens  were  wilder  and  the  air  purer,  I  thought,  than 
in  the  rest  of  Madrid,  being  nearer  the  desert  and  the 
mountain  of  the  Guadarrama.  Pretty,  slight,  dark- 
eyed  children  used  to  play  there;  and  Willie,  who  was 
fond  of  children,  used  to  wish  he  might  have  many, 
though  I  was  too  young  to  find  them  interesting. 

On  the  eve  of  Ash  Wednesday  (Shrove  Tuesday)  we 
went  to  the  Prado,  where  pancakes  were  being  fried 
under  the  trees.  The  oil  was  of  the  rankest,  and  the 
smell  horrible,  but  I  managed  to  eat  a  pancake  to  please 
my  Catholic  friends.  It  was  a  very  interesting  scene, 
the  well-dressed  people  and  the  peasants  all  mingled 
together  eating  the  greasy  pancakes  that  they  would 
not  have  touched  at  their  own  table.  Beautiful  women 
in  their  soft  draperies  and  white  and  black  lace  mantillas, 
the  waving  fans  and  the  handsome  dress  of  the  peasants 
made  an  animated  picture  I  have  never  forgotten. 

Only  very  occasionally  in  those  days  did  the  French 
bonnet  obtrude  itself,  and  the  beautiful  dress  of  the 
country  was  not  spoilt  by  any  attempt  to  graft  French 
fashions  on  to  it.  I  was  delighted  with  the  mantilla, 
and  found  so  many  Spanish  women  were  as  fair  as  I 
that  I  could  easily  pass,  in  mj^  mantilla,  for  a  Spaniard. 
The  then  belle  of  society  in  Madrid  was  very  fair,  with 
golden  hair  and  glorious  dark  eyes. 

Now  occurred  my  first  real  quarrel  with  Willie,  though, 
on  looking  back  upon  the  incident,  I  can  see  that  a  little 
more  humour  on  my  part  and  sympathy  on  his  would 
have  saved  much  bitterness. 

63 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

An  elderly  Spaniard  had  paid  me  much  attention 
for  some  time,  and,  being  very  unsophisticated  in  those 
days,  I  thought  that  his  compliments  and  gifts  of  flowers 
were  merely  the  usual  kindnesses  of  a  fussy  old  man. 
In  fact,  I  regarded  him  as  a  tiresome,  though  kind,  old 
bore,  and  was  as  shocked  as  astonished  when,  one  even- 
ing in  the  Prado,  he  proposed,  in  a  wealth  of  comph- 
ment  of  which  I  could  not  comprehend  the  half,  that 
I  should  tie  a  long  blue  ribbon  to  my  balcony  the  next 
day  when  Willie  was  out,  as  a  signal  for  him  to  come  to 
my  rooms.  I  v/as  furiously  angry,  and,  of  course,  for- 
got every  word  of  Spanish  that  I  knew.  Willie  came 
past  at  that  moment,  walking  with  one  of  the  other 
ladies  of  our  party,  and  I  unceremoniously  took  his  arm, 
and  said  I  must  go  home  at  once.  Of  course  Willie 
took  me  home,  but  he  was  annoyed  at  the  suddenness 
of  my  action,  and  when  I  burst  out  that  I  had  been 
grossly  insulted  by  his  old  friend  he  laughed,  and  told 
me  not  to  be  so  imaginative.  Recriminations  followed, 
and  a  bad  quarrel  was  the  finish  to  what  had  been  a 
very  pleasant  day. 

I  was  very  angry,  and  did  not  sleep  well,  and  when  I 
rose  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  I  found 
that  Willie  had  gone  out.  I  was  looking  rather  mourn- 
fully out  of  my  window  when  I  saw  the  flutter  of  a  blue 
ribbon  on  the  opposite  balcony.  For  a  moment  I 
drew  back  in  disgust,  then  a  happy  thought  seized  me 
and,  dashing  into  my  bedroom,  I  pulled  out  several 
yards  of  pale  blue  ribbon  which  I  cut  into  long  lengths. 
Stepping  out  on  to  the  balcony,  I  looked  carefully  and 
ostentatiously  up  and  down  the  street  before  tying  each 
ribbon  to  one  of  the  ornamental  heads  of  the  balcony. 
This  done  to  my  satisfaction,  I  threw  on  my  mantilla 
and  ran  downstairs,  only  stopping  to  leave  a  message 

64 


LIFE  IN  MADRID 

with  the  porter  to  the  effect  that  if  the  Senor 

called  he  was  to  be  told  that  Senor  O'Shea  awaited  his 
visit  with  pleasure  and  yards  of  ribbon  on  a  stick.  Then 
I  fled  along  to  the  cousins,  and  inveigled  them  into  spend- 
ing a  happy  evening  among  my  beloved  owls  on  the 
way  to  the  Manzanares. 

I    never   knew    what    happened    between    the    Senor 

and  Willie,  but  when  I  was  escorted  back  to  the 

hotel  by  my  friends  Willie  was  home,  very  amiable, 
and  the  ribbons  had  gone  from  the  balcony.  I  did 
see  the  elderly  Don  Juan  again,  but  he  had  become 
absolutely  blind  so  far  as  seeing  either  myself  or  Willie 
was  concerned. 

When  we  had  been  in  Spain  for  nearly  a  year  there 
was  some  dispute  about  the  business  arrangements  of 
W^illie's  partnership  in  his  uncle's  bank,  and  Willie 
withdrew  altogether  from  the  affair.  We  then  decided 
to  return  to  England. 

Though  glad  to  go  home,  I  parted  from  the  Spanish 
relations  with  regret,  and  have  always  since  my  visit 
to  them  thought  that  the  admixture  of  Irish  and  Span- 
ish blood  is  most  charming  in  result. 


65 


CHAPTER  IX 

OUR   HOME   AT   BENNINGTON 

''How  hard  their  lot  who 
Neither  won  nor  lost."  —  J.  Beattie. 

On  our  return  to  England  we  lived  in  Clarges  Street, 
London,  for  some  time,  while  Willie  was  looking  for  a 
place  in  the  country  where  he  could  start  a  stud  farm. 
Willie  was  very  fond  of  horses,  and  understood  them 
well,  and  I  was  delighted  at  the  idea  of  his  getting  some 
really  good  brood  mares  and  breeding  race-horses;  we 
knowing,  of  course,  nothing  of  the  enormous  expense 
and  many  losses  such  an  undertaking  was  certain  to  entail. 

At  last  we  decided  to  take  Bennington  Park,  Hert- 
fordshire, and  on  going  there  Willie  bought  some  good 
blood  stock,  among  the  pick  of  which  were  Alice  Maud, 
Scent,  and  Apricot. 

Bennington  was  a  pretty  place,  with  two  fine  avenues 
of  trees  in  a  small  park  leading  up  to  a  comfortable 
house,  and  when  we  arrived  the  park  was  a  carpet  of 
snowdrops.  A  lovely  rose-walk  led  to  the  glasshouses 
and  kitchen  gardens.  On  one  side  of  the  house  were 
the  stables,  and  after  them  the  long  rows  of  loose  boxes, 
the  groom's  and  gardener's  cottages.  The  paddocks 
opened  on  and  adjoined  the  park,  and  the  pasture  was 
well  suited  to  young  stock. 

Soon  we  had  all  the  boxes  tenanted,  and  I  spent 
many  happy  hours  petting  the  lovely  thoroughbred  mares 
with  their  small  velvety  noses  and  intelligent  eyes. 

66 


OUR  HOME  AT  BENNINGTON 

When  the  foals  began  to  arrive  I  spent  most  of  my 
time  in  the  paddocks  with  these  dainty  ladies,  who  led 
a  life  of  luxury  sauntering  about  the  meadows  —  their 
funny  and  ungainly  though  beautifully  made  foals  run- 
ning by  their  sides,  or  trotting  merrily  in  front  to  im- 
pede the  progress  of  the  mares.  I  used  to  give  the  foals 
bowls  of  warm  milk,  and  they  would  come  with  their 
uncertain,  clumsy  young  gallop  to  meet  me  directly  I  ap- 
peared. 

We  had  great  hope  of  a  foal  of  Alice  Maud's,  and 
Willie  would  talk  with  the  utmost  confidence  of  the 
racing  victories  that  would  be  ours  with  Harpalyce, 
the  son  of  Gladiator,  a  confidence  that  proved  sadly 
misplaced. 

My  little  pony  was  sent  from  Rivenhall,  and  I  found 
her  very  useful  trotting  through  the  Hertfordshire  lanes 
to  return  the  calls  of  the  county  people,  as  the  mare 
Brunette  which  Willie  gave  me  to  drive  in  the  T-cart 
was  not  considered  safe  for  me  to  drive  alone,  and  I 
found  it  irksome  to  have  a  servant  always  with  me. 

By  now  I  had  my  old  nurse  Lucy  from  Rivenhall 
to  live  with  me,  and  she  was  so  glad  to  be  with  me  once 
more  that  I  promised  her  that  she  should  never  leave 
me  again.  She  did  not,  till  she  died  at  a  great  age, 
years  afterwards.  Lucy  was  a  splendid  type  of  the  old- 
fashioned  and  most  faithful  servant.  Absolutely  de- 
voted to  me,  respecting  Willie  as  belonging  to  me, 
she  loathed  my  French  maid  from  the  bottom  of  her 
jealous  old  heart.  Caroline  had  a  tolerant  shrug  of 
the  shoulders  and  an  "O,  la,  la,"  kept  expressly  for 
Lucy's  benefit,  and  this  seemingly  harmless  expression 
used  to  make  the  old  lady  shake  with  anger  that  she 
was  far  too  gentle  to  express.  I  used  to  take  Lucy 
with  me  in  the  pony  cart,  much  to  her  pride,  though 

67 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

she  was  sure  that  it  would  end  in  a  violent  death  for 
us  both.  This  dear  old  soul  was  generous  to  her  finger- 
tips, and  when  Willie  and  I  came  upon  hard  times  he 
came  to  me  one  day  and  said:  "That  dear  old  fool  came 
and  poured  her  stockingful  of  savings  out  on  my  table, 
and  ran  away  before  I  could  catch  her!"  I  have  met 
with  the  greatest  devotion  and  kindness  all  my  life  from 
my  servants,  but  Lucy  was  the  dearest  of  them  all. 

Willie  was  much  away  from  home,  at  races,  etc.; 
but,  having  a  first-rate  stud  groom  and  twenty  "lads," 
the  live-stock  was  very  carefully  tended.  I  had  to 
w^alk  round  every  day  when  Willie  was  away,  and  re- 
port on  their  condition  to  him.  There  was  a  stallion 
named  Blue  Mantle,  who  was  subject  to  "moods"  oc- 
casionally, and  would  vent  his  temper  on  his  attendant 
with  vicious  teeth  and  sudden  wicked  "down-cuts"  of 
his  forefeet,  and  on  these  occasions  Selby,  the  head 
man,  would  ask  me  to  come  and  soothe  the  beautiful 
brute,  who  was  as  gentle  as  a  lamb  with  me. 

Willie's  sporting  friends  often  came  home  with  him, 
and  most  of  the  sporting  world  of  that  day  were  wel- 
come visitors  to  Bennington.  One  young  man,  Sir 
W^illiam  Call,  was  a  particularly  welcome  friend,  and 
among  others  I  have  a  warm  remembrance  of  Sir  Charles 
Nugent  and  Mr.  Reginald  Herbert  and  his  wife,  the 
latter  a  very  sporting  little  lady,  who  was  an  inveterate 
smoker,  a  habit  unusual  among  women  at  that  time. 
Captain  Douglas-Lane  gave  me  a  beautiful  white  cat, 
"Haymaker,"  which  spent  a  happy  life  sleeping  upon 
the  back  of  any  horse  that  happened  to  be  at  home. 

The  Rowlands,  who  used  to  train  at  Epsom,  kept 
some  mares  with  us;  they  were  particularly  charming 
people,  with  whom  we  sometimes  stayed  for  the  Epsom 
race  meetings.     I  remember  getting  into  trouble  with 

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OUR  HOME  AT  BENNINGTON 

some  of  the  local  ladies  by  spending  several  evenings 
in  playing  chess  with  a  fellow- visitor  there  —  a  famous 
tenor  who,  after  singing  his  song  of  courtesy  due,  would 
retire  into  gloomy  silence,  guarding  his  precious  voice 
in  a  corner  until  I  took  pity  on  his  loneliness  (for  an 
artiste  is  rather  out  of  his  element  in  a  sporting  house 
party),  and  played  many  games  of  chess  with  him. 

I  never  knew  how  Signor  Campibello  (plain  Mr.  Camp- 
bell to  his  friends)  got  there,  but  I  know  he  was  most 
grateful  for  the  quiet  evenings  of  chess  —  and  so  was  I. 

The  chief  form  of  social  intercourse  in  the  county 
was  the  giving  of  long,  heavy,  and  most  boring  dinners. 
People  thought  nothing  of  driving  eight  or  even  ten 
miles  (and  there  were  no  motor-cars  then)  to  eat  their 
dinner  in  each  other's  houses,  and  this  form  of  enter- 
tainment used  to  produce  such  an  absolutely  painful 
boredom  in  me  that  I  frequently  hid  the  invitations 
from  Willie,  who  liked  to  "keep  up  with  the  county." 

I  did  not  mind  giving  the  dinners  so  much,  for  I 
used  to  "mix  people  horribly,"  as  Willie  said,  and  it 
was  rather  amusing  to  send  a  stiff  and  extremely  con- 
ventional "county"  madame,  blazing  with  diamonds 
and  uninspiring  of  conversation,  in  to  dinner  with  a 
cheery  sporting  man  of  no  particular  lineage  and  a 
fund  of  racy  anecdote.  I  think,  too,  that  this  sort  of 
thing  must  have  been  good  for  both. 

It  also  used  to  make  me  happy  to  give  some  of  the 
accompanying  daughters  a  good  time  among  the  "in- 
eligible" men  we  had  about.  Men,  mostly,  without 
"two  sixpences  to  rub  together,"  but  nevertheless  very 
gay-hearted  and  pleasant  companions;  a  change  for 
the  dear  prim  girls,  whose  brothers  made  such  a  point 
of  being  "away,"  except  in  the  shooting  seasons,  that 
the  girls  —  and  so  many  girls  —  had  no  natural  com- 

69 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

panionship  with  young  men  at  all.  The  mothers  fussed, 
and  Willie  besought  me  to  be  more  careful,  but  the  girls 
enjoyed  themselves,  and  that  any  reasonable  human  be- 
ing should  enjoy  a  '* county"  dinner  party  is  an  achieve- 
ment of  which  any  young  hostess  may  be  proud. 

On  looking  back  I  think  that  Willie  and  I  must  have 
been  of  great  interest  to  all  these  dull  people.  The  horses 
were,  of  course,  a  perpetual  interest,  and  we  were,  I  think, 
sought  after  socially  from  my  very  disinclination  to  con- 
form to  the  generally  accepted  modes  of  amusement. 

Willie  and  I  were  a  good-looking  young  couple,  and 
people  liked  to  have  us  about.  Wilhe,  too,  was  a  good 
conversationalist,  and  had  a  ready  wit  that  made  him 
welcome,  since  an  Irishman  and  wit  are  synonymous 
to  the  conventional  mind.  That  his  witticisms  per- 
tained rather  to  the  France  of  his  education  than  the 
Ireland  of  his  birth  was  unrecognised,  because  unex- 
pected. 

I  was  —  rather,  I  fear,  to  Willie's  annoyance  —  la- 
belled "dehghtfully  unusual"  soon  after  our  going  to  Ben- 
nington, the  cause  being  that  I  received  my  guests  one 
evening  with  my  then  abundant  hair  hanging  loosely 
to  below  my  waist,  twisted  through  with  a  wide  blue 
ribbon.  To  Willie's  scandalised  glance  I  replied  with 
a  hasty  whisper,  "The  very  latest  from  Paris,"  and  was 
rewarded  with  the  molhfied  though  puzzled  expression 
very  properly  awarded  by  all  men  to  the  "latest  fash- 
ion" of  their  womenkind. 

I  put  off  the  queries  of  the  ladies  after  dinner  in  the 
same  way,  and  was  rewarded  by  them  by  the  general 
admission  that  it  was  a  fashion  for  the  few  —  who  had 
the  hair.  Never  did  I  admit  that  I  had  been  out  with 
the  horses  so  late  that  I  had  had  just  time  for  Caroline 
to  hurry  me  into  a  gown  and  shake  down  my  hair  as 

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OUR  HOME  AT  BENNINGTON 

my  first  guest  arrived.  So  little  do  we  deserve  the  fame 
forced  upon  us. 

Sometimes  Willie  was  delayed  at  a  race  meeting, 
and  did  not  get  home  in  time  for  the  dinner  party  he 
had  insisted  on  my  giving,  and  the  awkwardness  result- 
ing —  greatly  exaggerated  in  the  estimation  of  those 
conventional  folk  —  caused  much  irritation  between  us. 
It  was  far  easier  for  these  good  people  to  believe  that 
"it  was  very  odd"  that  Captain  O'Shea  should  not  be 
at  home  to  receive  his  guests  than  that  he  had  really 
missed  a  train. 

My  annoyance  was  even  more  acute  when  I  had  to 
go  without  him  to  a  dinner  miles  away,  in  the  unhappy 
knowledge  that  my  hostess's  gaze  would  wander  be- 
yond me,  in  greeting,  seeking  for  the  man  who  was  not 
there  to  complete  her  table. 

Our  county  member's  family  were  among  some  of 
the  most  agreeable  of  the  people  hving  anywhere  near  us, 
and  I  remember  the  two  very  pretty  daughters  as  great 
friends  of  mine,  as  also  were  Lady  Susan  Smith  and  her 
husband.  The  former  was  a  very  handsome  woman,  curi- 
ously stiff  in  manner  and  very  warm  of  heart,  to  whom,  in 
spite  of  our  utter  unlikeness  in  temperament,  I  became 
extremely  attached. 

I  think  I  must  have  been  rather  a  clever  young  woman. 
Once  when  Willie  had  gone  away  for  a  few  days,  leav- 
ing orders  that  his  smoking-room  was  to  be  repapered, 
he  telegraphed  the  same  evening  to  say  he  was  return- 
ing the  next  day  with  several  friends  for  the  races  near 
by.  The  room  was,  of  course,  not  done,  and  the  men 
said  they  could  not  do  it  in  the  time,  so  I  drove  over  to 
Hertford,  returning  in  triumph  with  rolls  of  paper, 
which  I  calmly  proceeded  to  paste  and  put  up  myself, 
much  to  the  disgust  of  our  butler,  who  told  my  old 

71 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

nurse  I  was  "bad  for  trade."  I  made  him  hold  the 
steps  for  me  —  hence  his  discontent. 

Bennington  was  eight  miles  from  the  nearest  town, 
and  when  Willie  was  away  and  I  had  no  guests  he  wished 
me  to  have  our  great  retriever,  Ben,  who  was  a  splen- 
did guard,  in  the  house  at  night.  One  evening  a  tramp 
came  to  the  pony  stable  when  I  was  there  alone  with 
Ben,  and  directly  he  spoke  to  me  Ben  leapt  straight 
at  his  throat,  and  I  had  a  horrible  ten  minutes  getting 
him  off  the  man.  At  last  I  got  the  dog  under  control, 
and  made  the  man  roll  into  the  coachhouse  —  Ben 
would  not  let  him  rise.  After  I  had  praised  Ben  for 
his  good  guard  of  me  and  shut  him  up  I  had  to  go  and 
attend  to  the  poor  tramp,  whose  injuries  were  suffi- 
ciently severe,  and  the  whole  affair  worried  me  so  much 
that  I  decided  that  my  King  Charles  spaniel  was  quite 
as  much  guard  as  I  could  bear  to  have  about  me.  Willie 
could  not  see  my  point,  but,  as  the  men's  cottages  were 
far  from  the  house,  and  the  butler  by  no  means  an 
adequate  protection  for  anyone,  he  stipulated  that  I 
should  at  any  rate  keep  his  gun  loaded  in  my  bedroom 
at  night  when  he  was  away.  This  I  did,  but  the  knowl- 
edge of  having  a  loaded  gun  in  my  room  rather  got 
on  my  nerves,  until  I  hit  on  the  happy  expedient  of 
getting  out  of  bed  and  discharging  it  (in  the  air)  through 
my  always  open  window  the  first  time  I  woke  in  the 
night.  I  am  sure  this  had  an  excellent  effect  in  keep- 
ing off  wanderers  of  evil  intent,  and  I  heard,  to  my  joy 
and  Willie's,  that  a  gardener  courting  one  of  the  maids, 
found  "the  Missis  a  perfect  terror  with  that  gun." 

Our  Gladiator  foal,  of  whom  W^illie  had  had  such 
golden  hope,  became  lame,  and  after  a  time  it  was 
found  that  she  (Harpalyce)  had  a  disease  of  the  joint. 
She  was  a  great  pet  of  mine,  and  I  was  her  chief  nurse 

72 


OUR  HOME  AT  BENNINGTON 

during  the  long  illness  she  had  before  we  were  in  mercy 
obliged  to  have  her  shot.  She  suffered  badly,  and  had 
to  be  slung,  and  I  sat  up  many  nights  with  her  trying 
to  soothe  the  pain  and  tempt  her  appetite  with  little 
delicacies.  She  used  to  look  at  me  with  those  large, 
pathetic  eyes,  so  pitiful  in  suffering  animals  (and  none 
more  so  than  in  horses),  and  gently  rub  her  velvet 
muzzle  against  my  cheek. 

We  had  some  splendid  horses  to  keep  for  other  people, 
and,  among  others,  there  was  Blue  Mantle,  belonging 
to  a  friend  of  Willie's  —  Captain  Douglas-Lane  —  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  horses  I  have  ever  seen.  He  was 
very  bad-tempered,  and  unless  his  own  groom  was  there 
he  had  to  have  his  feed  put  in  from  the  loft.  This  curi- 
ous savageness  of  temper  was  not  extended  to  me,  as  he 
would  allow  me  to  go  into  his  box  at  any  time,  and  pat 
and  fondle  him  as  much  as  I  liked. 

One  evening,  when  Willie  was  away,  the  stud  groom 
rushed  to  the  house  to  say  that  one  of  the  horses,  a 
very  valuable  stallion  named  Orestes,  belonging  to  Mr. 
Porter,  the  trainer,  of  Alfriston,  Sussex,  had  slipped  in 
his  box  while  being  groomed  and  broken  his  leg.  I 
sent  frantically  for  several  veterinary  surgeons,  but 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done,  and  I  had  to  give  the 
order  to  have  the  horse  shot  to  end  his  sufferings.  I 
then  sat,  horribly  frightened,  awaiting  Willie's  return, 
for  the  stud  groom's  gloomy  reiteration  of  "It's  your 
responsibility,  ma'am;  your  responsibility,"  was  not 
reassuring.  However,  Willie,  while  much  upset  at  the 
accident,  and  the  necessity  for  shooting  the  horse, 
quite  agreed  that  I  had  done  the  only  thing  possible 
in  the  circumstances,  as  did  the  owner  —  Mr.  Porter. 

Mr.  Porter  had  two  very  pretty  daughters,  whom 
I   had   to   stay   with   me   at   Bennington.     They   were 

73 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

quiet  little  ladies,  and  as  far  apart  from  the  generally 
accepted  idea  of  a  trainer's  daughters,  "fast,  horsy, 
and  noisy,"  as  could  possibly  be.  Quiet,  well-educated, 
and  charming  girls,  they  were  welcome  visitors,  and  very 
popular. 

I  used  to  send  in  a  large  consignment  of  fruit,  vege- 
tables, and  butter  to  the  Hertford  market  every  week, 
as  we  produced  so  much  more  of  everything  of  the  sort 
than  we  could  consume.  The  grapes  from  our  vineries 
were  very  fine  —  and  I  was  much  disgusted  v/hen  the 
head  gardener  remarked  to  me  that  they  had  much 
improved  since  the  foal  and  horse  had  been  buried  near 
the  vines. 

Our  expenses  were  so  heavy,  both  in  the  house  and 
stables,  that  I  was  very  glad  to  get  the  ready  money 
for  our  market  produce  from  garden  and  farm  every 
week,  and,  as  time  went  on,  the  only  veto  I  put  upon 
the  sale  of  produce  was  on  behalf  of  my  pigeons.  I 
had  a  cloud  of  beautiful  birds  that  used  to  settle  on 
me  whenever  I  appeared,  cooing  and  pulling  my  hair, 
and  a  few  of  these,  special  favourites,  I  allowed  in  my 
own  sitting-room,  where  they  would  sit  on  my  table  and 
cause  me  much  inconvenience  while  I  wrote  letters.  I 
think  Willie  must  have  given  orders  that  they  were 
not  to  increase,  as,  though  many  families  were  hatched, 
they  never,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  reached  maturity. 

Willie  was  never  good  at  dunning  friends  for  money 
owed,  and  as  we  had  many  brood  mares,  not  our  own, 
left  with  us  for  months  at  a  time,  the  stable  expenses, 
both  for  forage  and  wages,  became  appallingly  large. 
It  was  always  diflficult  to  get  the  accounts  in,  and  while 
Willie  did  not  like  to  worry  the  owners  even  for  the 
amount  for  the  bare  keep  of  the  animals,  he  was  him- 
self perpetually  worried  by  forage  contractors,  the  shoe- 

74 


OUR  HOME  AT  BENNINGTON 

ing  smith,   and  the  weekly   wage  bill,   besides  the  in- 
numerable extra  expenses  pertaining  to  a  large  stable. 

As  I  urged  against  the  sale  of  the  mares,  which  he 
so  often  threatened,  their  happy,  peaceful  maternity, 
in  the  long  lush  grass  and  shade  of  trees  by  day,  their 
comfortable  boxes  at  night,  and  their  fondness  of  me, 
he  used  to  stare  gloomily  at  me  and  swear  gently  as 
he  wished  there  were  more  profit  than  peace  in  their 
maternity  and  my  sentimentality.  But  he  could  forget 
his  worries  in  the  pleasure  of  schooling  the  yearlings, 
and  we  agreed  always  to  hold  on  as  long  as  possible  to 
a  life  we  both  found  so  interesting,  and  with  the  facile 
hope  of  youth  we  thought  to  get  the  better  of  our  ex- 
penses in  time. 

In  this  year  (1869)  my  eldest  (surviving)  brother, 
Frank,  became  very  ill,  and  Willie  and  I  went  to  Riven- 
hall  to  see  him.  He  wanted  me  to  nurse  him,  so  I 
stayed  on  in  my  old  home  while  Willie  returned  to 
Bennington. 

Frank  had  consumption,  and  very  badly;  he  suffered 
intensely,  and  I  think  I  have  never  longed  for  the  pres- 
ence of  a  doctor  with  more  anxiety  than  I  did  for  Dr. 
Gimson's  at  that  time.  My  perpetual  fear  was  that  the 
effect  of  the  opiate  he  gave  to  deaden  poor  Frank's  pain 
would  wear  off  before  he  came  again.  When  it  grew  dusk 
Frank  desired  me  to  put  candles  in  every  window,  that 
he  might  not  see  the  shadows  —  the  terrifying  shadows 
which  delirium  and  continual  doses  of  morphia  never 
fail  to  produce. 

Frank's  very  dear  friend,  Captain  Hawley  Smart, 
the  novelist,  came  to  Rivenhall  in  the  hope  that  he 
could  cheer  poor  Frank's  last  hours;  but  he  was  too  ill 
to  know  or  care,  and  Hawley  Smart  could,  hke  the  rest 
of  us,  only  await  the  pitying  release  of  death. 

75 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

From  my  position  by  the  side  of  Frank's  bed  I  could 
see  the  bridge  over  the  lake  and  the  white  gate  leading 
towards  Witham,  and  I  watched  with  feverish  anxiety 
for  the  sight  of  the  doctor's  cart  —  longing  for  his  com- 
ing to  relieve  the  tortured  brain  that  was  so  filled  with 
the  horror  of  undefinable  terrors;  and  the  pain  of  my 
watching  was  increased  by  the  knowledge  that  the 
morphia,  even  while  it  allayed  the  agony  he  was  suffer- 
ing, always  added  to  the  after  horror  of  the  awaken- 
ing. 

Dr.  Gimson  was  justly  a  hero  in  Essex.  At  one  time, 
when  unable  to  get  anyone  to  help  him,  he  strove  alone 
to  stem  an  outbreak  of  diphtheria  in  an  Essex  village 
some  miles  from  his  own  practice,  and  acted  both  as 
doctor  and  nurse  when  the  supply  of  the  latter  failed. 
Single-handed,  he  worked  night  and  day  among  the 
poor  people:  nursing,  healing,  and  cheering,  for  life  or 
death,  until  the  awful  epidemic  abated.  To  this  day 
his  memory  is  there  venerated  as  that  of  a  saint. 

After  Frank's  death  I  returned  to  Bennington,  taking 
his  ex-soldier  servant  with  me.  The  latter  was  a  use- 
less encumbrance,  as  it  turned  out,  but  it  relieved  my 
mother  of  his  presence  at  Rivenhall. 

We  went  on  at  Bennington  in  very  much  the  same 
way  until  the  end  of  that  year.  Willie  had  been  betting 
very  heavily  in  the  hope  of  relieving  the  ever-increas- 
ing difiiculty  of  meeting  our  heavy  expenses,  and  now, 
added  to  his  losses  in  racing  and  the  heavy  expenses 
attendant  on  keeping  up  such  a  large  stud,  the  kind- 
hearted  bank  manager  insisted  that  the  large  overdraft 
on  his  bank  must  be  cleared. 

Hitherto,  whenever  he  had  become  very  pressing, 
Willie  had  sent  him  "something  on  account,"  and  we 
had  given  a  breakfast  for  his  hunt,  as  Wllhe  said  such 

76 


OUR  HOME  AT  BENNINGTON 

a  good  fellow  "could  not  eat  and  ask  at  the  same  time." 
Now,  however,  Mr.  Cheshire  sorrowfully  declined  to 
eat,  and  maintained  that  his  duty  to  his  firm  necessi- 
tated his  insisting  upon  the  clearing  of  the  overdraft. 
After  consultation  with  him  and  another  friend  Willie 
decided  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  send 
all  our  mares  up  to  Tattersall's  for  sale.  It  was  a 
heavy  blow  to  us,  but  Willie  had  never  had  sufficient 
capital  to  carry  on  an  undertaking  requiring  such  enor- 
mous expenditure,  and  his  experience  had  been  dearly 
bought. 

As  the  long  string  of  thoroughbred  mares  was  led 
away  to  the  station  and  I  kissed  their  muzzles  for  the 
last  time  I  cried  bitterly.  Poor  Wilhe  watched  them 
go  with  a  miserable  face,  which  became  even  more  so 
when  a  sympathetic  old  groom  explained  pitifully: 
"Ah,  dear  ma'am,  maybe  you'll  cry  more  when  they 
all  comes  back."  And  come  back  they  did,  escorted 
by  Tommie,  the  pony,  for  not  a  bid  of  any  importance 
v/as  made  for  smy  of  them.  Though  I  was  glad  to  see 
my  favourites  again,  it  of  course  meant  more  trouble 
in  the  immediate  future,  our  affairs  getting  into  a  worse 
state  every  day  till  bankruptcy  became  imminent. 

My  brother-in-law.  Sir  Thomas  Barrett-Lennard,  paid 
Willie  £500  for  the  mares,  and  Willie  sent  them  to 
Belhus,  where  Sir  Thomas  had  them  turned  into  the 
park. 

After  this  we  managed  to  pay  off  all  the  servants, 
and  I  arranged  to  go  to  Brighton  with  my  old  Lucy  and 
our  faithful  Selby,  the  stud  groom,  who  desired  to  stay 
on  with  us  until  we  could  arrange  our  plans,  as  did  also 
my  maid  Caroline. 

When  Willie  was  made  bankrupt  Mr.  Hobson  —  a 
gentleman  Hving  near  us  with  his  very  charming  wife, 

77 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

who  afterwards  became  Mrs.  A.  Yates  —  very  kindly 
took  my  little  old  pony  across  the  fields  at  night  to  his 
own  place  and  kept  him  there  so  that  he  should  not  go 
into  the  sale  of  our  goods.  This  defrauded  no  one,  as 
the  pony  (my  own)  was  beyond  work,  being  my  child- 
hood's pet. 


78 


CHAPTER  X 

A    DAY   ON   THE   DOWNS 

"A  son  to  clasp  my  finger  tight."  —  Norman  Gale. 

I  WAS  now  nearing  my  first  confinement,  and  my  aunt, 
Mrs.  Benjamin  Wood,  took  a  house  for  me  at  Brighton 
close  to  my  sister's.  Lady  Barrett-Lennard.  There  my 
son  Gerard  was  born. 

I  was  very  ill  for  some  time  after  this,  and  my  mother. 
Lady  Wood,  stayed  with  me,  employing  her  time  in 
making  a  lovely  water-colour  sketch  for  me. 

Willie's  affairs  were  now  settled,  and  I  had  to  give 
up  all  hope  of  returning  to  my  dearly  loved  country 
home  and  all  my  pets;  but  I  had  the  consolation  of  my 
beautiful  babe,  and  I  forgot  my  sorrow  in  my  greater 
possession.  He  was  very  healthy,  so  I  had  no  trouble 
on  that  score. 

A  young  solicitor  who  took  Willie's  affairs  in  hand, 
Mr.  Charles  Lane  (of  Lane  and  Monroe),  very  kindly 
took  upon  himself  to  call  on  my  Uncle  William,  who 
was  then  Lord  Chancellor  of  England,  and  ask  him  to 
assist  us  in  our  financial  difficulties.  Uncle  William 
was  much  astonished  at  the  application  of  this,  obvi- 
ously nervous,  young  solicitor,  who  with  the  courage 
born  of  despair  went  on  to  suggest  that  Lord  Hatherley 
might  give  Willie  a  lucrative  appointment. 

Strangely  enough  it  had  never  occurred  to  me  to 
apply  to  Uncle  William  for  anything,  and  when  Mr. 
Lane  called  on  us  and  solemnly  presented  me  with  a 

79 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

substantial  cheque  and  a  kind  message  from  my  uncle, 
Willie  and  I  were  as  surprised  as  we  were  pleased,  even 
though  Mr.  Lane  explained  that  "the  Lord  Chancellor 
had  no  post  suitable"  for  Willie's  energies. 

We  then  moved  into  a  house  on  the  Marine  Parade, 
as  the  one  we  were  in  was  very  expensive,  and  though 
I  was  glad  to  be  next  door  to  my  sister,  I  felt  it  was  not 
fair  to  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Wood,  who  was  paying  the  rent 
for  us. 

As  soon  as  we  moved  to  the  new  house  an  old  friend, 
and  noted  steeplechase  rider,  came  to  stay  with  us  for 
a  few  days  with  his  wife.  He  became  very  ill  at  dinner, 
and  in  a  fevv^  hours  was  raving  in  delirium  tremens, 
while  his  poor  wife  hid  sobbing  in  my  bedroom,  as  she 
was  so  much  afraid  of  his  violence.  He  was  a  big  man, 
and  our  doctor  a  little  one,  but  after  the  first  encounter, 
when  the  doctor  was  knocked  down  flat  on  entering 
the  room,  the  doctor  was  absolutely  master  of  the  very 
dangerous  situation.  I  have  always  had  a  great  ad- 
miration for  the  medical  profession. 

Someone  now  gave  me  a  magnificent  prize-bred  mas- 
tiff dog,  and  this  dog  developed  distemper  so  badly 
that  I  had  to  nurse  him  for  weeks  —  with  the  help  of 
Mr.  Mannington,  the  veterinary  surgeon  (who  was 
known  then  as  the  best  patcher-up  of  broken-down 
race-horses  in  existence).  Poor  Bismarck  became  par- 
alysed in  the  hind-quarters,  but,  with  unceasing  care, 
we  pulled  him  through,  and  he  grew  into  such  a  mag- 
nificent specimen  that  we  had  manj^  good  offers  for 
him.  At  last,  as  we  were  unable  to  keep  him  properly 
exercised,  and  Willie  was  offered  a  very  large  sum  for 
him  from  a  Frenchman,  we  let  him  go  to  France. 

The  Franco-Prussian  War  having  broken  out,  Brighton 
was  thronged  with  French  people.     The  women  looked 

80 


A  DAY  ON  THE  DOWNS 

very  handsome  with  the  massive  braids  of  hair  worn 
by  old  and  young,  low  on  the  neck,  and  tied  with  ribbon, 
or  hanging  in  loops  v/ound  round  with  silver  cord.  This 
French  fashion  was,  of  course,  eagerly  copied  by  English 
ladies,  and  though  I  had  a  wealth  of  hair  I  found  it 
was  not  nearly  heavy  enough  when  braided  Hke  this, 
and  Willie  insisted  on  my  buying  additional  braids,  as 
indeed  was  necessary  in  all  cases  while  this  foolish  fashion 
lasted. 

My  faithful  French  maid  Caroline  stuck  to  us  all 
through  our  fallen  fortunes,  as  also  did  our  stud  groom, 
and  though  v»'e  could  no  longer  pay  them  the  high  wages 
they  had  always  had,  they  refused  to  leave  us. 

Caroline,  whose  hardest  task  had  been  to  dress  my 
hair  and  wash  my  little  dog,  now  with  the  utmost  cheer- 
fulness took  to  cooking,  scrubbing,  cleaning,  and  being 
literally  a  maid-of -all-work;  while  Selby,  who  had  had 
more  than  twenty  underlings  to  do  his  bidding  and 
Yvdio  had  never  even  cleaned  the  horse  he  rode  at  Ben- 
nington, now  did  anything  that  needed  doing,  helping 
in  the  house,  valeting  his  master.  Finally,  when  Mr. 
Hobson  sent  my  old  pony  down,  Selby  installed  him- 
self as  stable-boy  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  as  though 
he  had  always  been  in  the  habit  of  receiving  ten  shillings 
a  week  for  doing  a  great  deal,  instead  of  £200  a  year 
for  doing  practically  nothing. 

Both  Selby  and  Caroline  considered  it  their  first  duty 
to  keep  Gerard,  my  little  son,  amused,  so,  in  spite  of 
our  troubles,  Willie  and  I  were  very  comfortable,  thanks 
to  these  faithful  friends. 

My  aunt,  Mrs.  Wood,  now  took  a  cottage  for  me  at 
Patcham,  just  out  of  Brighton,  and  I  was  able  to  have 
my  pony  there.  The  house  at  Patcham  was  a  dear, 
little,  old-fashioned  place  right  against  the  Downs,  and 

81 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

there  I  used  to  walk  for  miles  in  the  early  morning, 
the  springy  turf  almost  forcing  one  foot  after  the  other, 
while  the  song  of  the  larks  and  scent  of  the  close-growing, 
many-tinted  herbage  in  the  clear  bright  air  filled  me 
with  joyous  exhilaration. 

Willie  went  to  town,  and  often  was  away  for  days, 
on  various  businesses,  and  I  was  very  lonely  at  home  — 
even  though  I  daily  drove  the  old  pony  in  to  Brighton 
that  I  might  see  my  sister. 

I  had  a  cousin  of  Willie's,  Mrs.  Vaughan,  to  stay  with 
me  for  some  time,  but  she  was  perpetually  wondering 
what  Willie  was  doing  that  kept  him  so  much  away, 
and  this  added  irritation  to  loneliness.  I  had  had  such 
a  busy  life  at  Bennington  that  I  suffered  much  from 
the  want  of  companionship  and  the  loss  of  the  many 
interests  of  my  life  there.  I  felt  that  I  must  make  some 
friends  here,  and,  attracted  by  a  dark,  handsome  woman 
whom  I  used  to  meet  riding  when  I  walked  on  to  the 
Downs,  I  made  her  acquaintance,  and  found  in  her  a 
very  congenial  companion.  Quiet  and  rather  tragic  in 
expression,  she  thawed  to  me,  and  we  were  becoming 
warmly  attached  to  one  another  when  Willie,  in  one  of 
his  now  flying  visits,  heard  me  speak  of  my  new  friend. 
On  hearing  her  name  —  it  was  one  that  a  few  years 
before  had  brought  shame  and  sudden  death  into  one 
of  the  oldest  of  the  "great"  families  of  England  —  he 
professed  to  be  absolutely  scandalised,  and,  with  an 
assumption  of  authority  that  at  once  angered  me,  for- 
bade me  to  have  any  more  to  do  with  her.  He  met 
my  protests  with  a  maddening  superiority,  and  would 
not  tell  me  why  she  was  "beyond  the  pale."  I  ex- 
plained to  him  my  own  opinion  of  many  of  the  women 
he  liked  me  to  know  and  almost  all  the  men,  for  I  had 
not  then  learnt  the  hard  lesson  of  social  life,  and  that 

32 


A  DAY  ON  THE  DOWNS 

the  one  commandment  still  rigorously  observed  by  social 
hypocrisy  was,  "Thou  shalt  not  be  found  out." 

When  I  met  Mrs.  — -  again  she  soothed  my  indig- 
nation on  her  behalf,  and  as  Vv^e  sat  there,  high  on  a 
spur  of  a  hill,  watching  the  distant  sea,  she  smiled  a 
little  sadly  as  she  said  to  me:  "Little  fool,  I  have  gam- 
bled in  love  and  have  won,  and  those  who  win  must 
pay  as  well  as  those  who  lose.  Never  gamble,  you 
very  young  thing,  if  you  can  help  it;  but  if  you  do  be 
sure  that  the  stake  is  the  only  thing  in  the  world  to 
you,  for  only  that  will  make  it  worth  the  winning  and 
the  paying." 

It  was  nearly  ten  years  afterwards  that  I,  feeling 
restless  and  unhappy,  had  such  a  sudden  longing  for 
the  sea,  that  one  morning  I  left  my  home  (at  Eltham) 
very  early  and  went  down  to  Brighton  for  the  day.  I 
was  alone,  and  wished  to  be  alone;  so  I  got  out  of  the 
train  at  Preston,  for  fear  I  should  meet  any  of  ni}^  re- 
lations at  Brighton  station.  A  fancy  then  seized  me 
to  drive  out  to  Patcham,  about  a  mile  farther  on,  to 
see  if  my  former  little  house  was  occupied.  Having 
decided  that  it  was  I  dismissed  my  ^y  and  walked  up 
the  bridle  path  beyond  the  house  out  on  to  the  Downs, 
where,  turning  south,  towards  the  sea,  I  walked  steadily 
over  the  scented  turf,  forcing  out  of  my  heart  all  but 
the  joy  of  movement  in  the  sea  wind,  with  the  song  of 
the  skylarks  in  my  ears. 

The  exhilaration  of  the  down-lands  filled  my  whole 
being  as  it  had  always  done,  but  now  my  spirits  rose 
with  a  quick  sense  of  happiness  that  I  did  not  under- 
stand. I  sang  as  I  walked,  looking  towards  the  golden 
light  and  sullen  blue  of  the  sea,  where  a  storm  was 
beating  up  with  the  west  wind.  Presentlj^  I  realised 
that  I  was  very  tired,  and  I  sat  down  to  rest  upon  a 

83 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

little  hilltop  where  I  could  see  over  the  whole  of  Brighton. 
It  was  now  afternoon,  and  I  was  tired  and  hungry. 
I  idly  wondered  if  I  should  go  down  presently  and  claim 
the  hospitality  that  I  knew  my  sister,  Lady  Barrett- 
Lennard,  would  so  gladly  offer  me.  But  my  gay  spirits 
had  suddenly  deserted  me,  and,  though  the  larks  were 
still  singing  in  the  sunshine  where  I  sat,  the  wind  seemed 
colder  and  the  dark  line  of  the  stormy  sea  had  grown 
very  wide. 

Presently  the  wind  brought  up  the  rain,  and  I  rose 
and  began  to  descend  the  hill  towards  Brighton.  I 
wondered  apathetically  if  my  sister  was  in  Brighton 
or  if  they  were  all  at  Belhus  still.  Anyhow,  I  knew 
there  would  be  someone  at  her  house  who  would  give 
me  something  to  eat.  Then  I  turned  round,  and  began 
deliberately  to  climb  up  the  hill  on  to  the  Downs  again. 
After  all,  I  thought,  I  had  come  here  to  be  alone,  and 
did  not  want  to  see  my  sister  particularly.  The  family 
might  all  be  there,  and  anyhow  I  did  not  want  to  see 
anybody  who  loved  me  and  could  bias  my  mind.  I  had 
come  down  to  get  away  from  Willie  for  a  little  while  — 
or  rather  from  the  thought  of  him,  for  it  was  rarely 
enough  I  saw  him.  If  I  went  down  to  see  Emma  and 
Tom  they  would  ask  how  Willie  was,  and  really  I  did 
not  know,  and  then  how  were  the  children.  Well,  I 
could  thankfully  answer  that  the  children  were  always 
well.  Why  should  I  be  supposed  to  have  no  other  in- 
terests than  Willie  and  my  children.^  Willie  was  not, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  at  all  interesting  to  me.  As  to  my 
children,  I  loved  them  very  dearly,  but  they  were  not 
old  enough,  or  young  enough,  to  engross  my  whole 
mind.  Then  there  was  dear  old  x\unt  Ben,  who  was  so 
old  that  she  would  not  tolerate  any  topic  of  conversa- 
tion of  more  recent  date  than  the  marriage  of  Queen 

84 


A  DAY  ON  THE  DOWNS 

Victoria.  What  a  curiously  narrow  life  mine  was,  I 
thought,  narrow,  narrow,  narrow,  and  so  deadly  dull. 
It  was  better  even  to  be  up  there  on  the  Downs  in  the 
drifting  rain  —  though  I  was  soaked  to  the  skin  and  so 
desperately  'tired  and  hungry.  I  paused  for  shelter 
behind  a  shepherd's  hut  as  I  saw  the  lithe  spare  form  of 
my  brother-in-law.  Sir  Thomas,  dash  past,  head  do\Vn 
and  eyes  half  closed  against  the  rain.  He  did  not  see 
me,  and  I  watched  him  running  like  a  boy  through  the 
driving  mist  till  he  disappeared.  He  had  come  over  from 
Lewes,  I  supposed.  He  was  a  J.  P.,  and  had  perhaps 
been  over  to  the  court;  he  never  rode  where  he  could 
walk  —  or  rather  run. 

I  waited,  sheltering  now  from  the  rain,  and  through 
the  mist  there  presently  came  a  girl  riding.  On  seeing 
me  she  pulled  up  to  ask  the  quickest  way  to  Brighton, 
as  the  mist  had  confused  her.  As  I  answered  her  I  was 
struck  by  a  certain  resemblance,  in  the  dark  eyes  and 
proud  tilt  of  the  chin,  to  my  friend  of  many  years  ago, 
whose  battles  I  had  fought  with  Willie,  and  who  had 
told  me  something  of  her  life  while  we  sat  very  near 
this  place.  The  girl  now  before  me  was  young,  and 
life  had  not  yet  written  any  bitterness  upon  her  face; 
but  as  she  thanked  me,  and,  riding  away,  laughingly 
urged  me  to  give  up  the  attempt  to  "keep  dry,"  and 
to  fly  home  before  I  dissolved  altogether,  I  had  the 
voice  of  my  old-time  friend  in  my  ears,  and  I  answered 
aloud,  "I  am  afraid;  I  tell  you,  I  am  afraid."  But 
she  was  dead,  I  knew,  and  could  not  answer  me,  and  I 
smiled  angrily  at  my  folly  as  I  turned  down  the  track 
to  Preston,  while  I  thought  more  quietly  how  the  daugh- 
ter whose  loss  had  caused  such  bitter  pain  to  my  dear 
friend,  when  she  had  left  all  for  love,  had  grown  to 
happy  womanhood  in  spite  of  all. 

85 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

I  was  now  feeling  very  faint  from  my  long  day  of 
hard  exercise  without  food,  but  there  was  a  train  about 
to  start  for  London,  and  I  would  not  miss  it. 

On  the  platform  for  Eltham,  at  Charing  Cross,  stood 
Mr.  Parnell,  waiting,  watching  the  people  as  they  passed 
the  barriers.  As  our  eyes  met  he  turned  and  walked 
by  my  side.  He  did  not  speak,  and  I  was  too  tired  to 
do  so,  or  to  wonder  at  his  being  there.  He  helped  me 
into  the  train  and  sat  down  opposite  me,  and  I  was  too 
exhausted  to  care  that  he  saw  me  wet  and  dishevelled. 
There  were  others  in  the  carriage.  I  leant  back  and 
closed  my  eyes,  and  could  have  slept  but  that  the  little 
flames  deep  down  in  Parnell's  eyes  kept  flickering  be- 
fore mine,  though  they  were  closed.  I  was  very  cold; 
and  I  felt  that  he  took  off  his  coat  and  tucked  it  round 
me,  but  I  would  not  open  my  eyes  to  look  at  him.  He 
crossed  over  to  the  seat  next  to  mine,  and,  leaning  over  me 
to  fold  the  coat  more  closely  round  my  knees,  he  whis- 
pered, "I  love  you,  I  love  you.  Oh,  my  dear,  how  I 
love  you."  And  I  slipped  my  hand  into  his,  and  knew 
I  was  not  afraid. 


86 


CHAPTER  XI 

BEAUFORT    GARDENS 

''Nor  to  thyself  the  task  shall  be 

Without  reward; for  thou  shalt  learn 
The  wisdom  early  to  discern 
True  beauty  in  utility." 

Willie  was  away  more  than  ever  after  this,  and  I  be- 
came so  bored  and  lonely  that  I  told  him  that  I  must 
join  him  in  London  if  he  meant  to  be  there  so  much. 
He  then  proposed  to  give  up  the  Patcham  house  and 
move  the  small  household  to  Harrow  Road,  London, 
temporarily,  till  we  had  time  to  find  something  less  de- 
pressing. 

In  going  we  also  hoped  to  shake  off  an  acquaintance 
who  haunted  us  at  Brighton  and  Patcham,  a  Mr.  D., 
but  he  soon  found  us  out,  and,  realising  that  I  was 
determined  to  be  "not  at  home"  to  him,  he  took  to 
leaving  gifts  of  beautiful  Spanish  lace  at  the  door,  di- 
rected to  me,  and  only  the  words  "from  Romeo"  inside. 

This  man  had  lived  most  of  his  life  in  Spain,  and  was 
a  remarkably  good  judge  of  Spanish  lace,  and  I  must 
confess  I  was  tempted  to  keep  the  rich  creamy-white 
stuff  that  arrived  anonymously.  This  "Romeo"  was 
more  than  middle-aged,  and,  when  he  wrote  that  for 
"safety's  sake"  he  would  address  messages  to  me  through 
the  "agony"  column  of  the  newspapers,  WilHe's  wrath 
was  unbounded. 

He  wrote  to  poor  "Romeo"  in  sarcastic  vein,  allud- 

87 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

ing  to  his  age  and  figure,  his  insolence  in  addressing 
"a  young  and  beautiful"  woman  with  his  "pestilent'* 
twaddle.  He  told  him,  too,  that  he  withdrew  from  all 
business  transactions  with  him,  and  would  have  much 
pleasure  in  kicking  "Romeo"  if  he  dared  call  at  the 
house  again.  I  was  almost  sorry  for  the  foolish  old 
man;  but  that  was  wasted  on  him,  for  he  continued, 
undeterred  by  Willie's  anger,  to  address  "Juliet"  in 
prose  and  verse  in  the  daily  papers.  As  he  said,  the 
"Daily  Press  was  open  to  all,  and  the  Captain  could 
not  stop  that!"  I  used  to  laugh  helplessly  as  Willie 
opened  the  morning  paper  at  breakfast,  and,  first  gravely 
turning  to  the  "agony"  column,  would  read  the  latest 
message  to  "Juliet"  from  her  devoted  "Romeo,"  be- 
coming so  angry  that  breakfast  was  spoiled  to  him. 
The  sudden  cessation  of  our  acquaintance  prevented 
our  making  that  of  Mme.  Adelina  Patti  as  "Romeo" 
had  arranged  a  dinner  in  order  that  I  should  meet  her. 
A  few  weeks  after  we  arrived  in  Harrow  Road  Willie 
began  to  complain  of  feeling  ill,  and  a  swelling  that  had 
formed  on  his  neck  became  very  painful.  He  was  con- 
fined to  bed,  and  after  great  suffering  for  weeks,  Mr. 
Edgar  Barker,  who  was  constantly  in  attendance,  said 
he  must  operate  to  save  Willie's  life.  I  had  no  nurse, 
as  at  this  time  we  were  in  such  financial  straits  that  I 
really  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn,  and  Willie  was 
too  ill  to  be  asked  about  anything.  Mr.  Barker  said 
to  me,  "You  must  hold  his  head  perfectly  still,  and  not 
faint."  So  he  operated,  and  all  went  well,  in  spite  of 
my  inexperience  in  surgical  nursing.  Mr.  Barker,  for 
whose  kindness  at  this  time  I  can  never  be  sufficiently 
grateful,  helped  me  in  every  way,  and  would  not  allow 
even  Willie's  mother  and  sister  to  do  so,  as  their  pres- 
ence irritated  the  patient  so  intensely. 


BEAUFORT  GARDENS 

During  this  time  of  trouble  a  Mr.  Calasher,  a  money- 
lender, called  to  have  some  acceptances  of  Willie's  met. 
I  left  Willie's  bedside  for  a  few  minutes  to  see  him,  and 
he  was  kindness  itself,  agreeing  to  a  renewal  on  my  signa- 
ture alone,  and  most  kindly  sending  in  some  little  deli- 
cacies that  he  thought  Willie  might  fancj^  When  Willie 
had  recovered  and  went  to  see  Mr.  Calasher  about  the 
bills,  it  being  then  more  than  ever  impossible  to  meet 
them,  he  (Mr.  Calasher)  would  not  consent  to  a  further 
renewal,  but  tore  the  bills  across  and  gave  them  back 
to  Willie,  saying,  "Don't  worry  yourself,  Captain  O'Shea, 
but  pay  me  when  you  can,  and  add  six  per  cent,  interest 
if  you  are  able."  I  am  glad  to  say  we  did  this  within 
the  year.  His  courtesy  about  these  bills  was  a  great 
relief  to  me,  as  Willie  was  far  too  ill  to  be  spoken  to 
about  business,  and  I  was  at  my  wits'  end  for  money 
to  meet  e very-day  expenses.  The  accommodating  Jew 
who  lends  the  indiscreet  Christian  his  money  —  natu- 
rally with  a  business-like  determination  to  increase  it  — 
has  so  much  said  against  him  that  I  am  glad  to  be  able 
to  speak  my  little  word  of  gratitude  of  one  who  was 
considerate  and  chivalrous  to  Willie  as  well  as  myself, 
to  his  own  detriment. 

As  Willie  got  better,  my  uncle  —  Lord  Hatherley  — 
and  my  aunt  sent  us  various  good  things  to  make  Willie 
strong,  and  my  days  of  nursing  were  lightened,  since 
he  was  now  able  to  amuse  himself  with  our  little  boy. 
This  young  man,  when  only  just  able  to  toddle,  took  the 
opportunity  presented  by  my  being  in  close  attendance 
on  his  father  to  lock  me  in  the  conservatory,  and,  thus 
freed  from  supervision,  to  take  his  headlong  way  down 
the  steep  stairs.  I  had  to  thrust  my  hand  through  the 
glass  panel  of  the  door  to  unlock  it,  and  catch  my  baby 
just  in  time  to  prevent  the  dive  he  had  set  his  heart  on 

89 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

—  into  the  hall  two  floors  below.  His  temper  was  dis- 
tinctly gusty  in  those  days,  and  once,  during  a  walk 
with  myself  and  my  old  Lucy,  my  small  son  flung  him- 
self down  in  the  midst  of  the  traffic  in  the  Bayswater 
Road  with  tight-shut  eyes  and  crimson  face,  working 
up  the  hov/1  of  rage  that  never  struck  terror  to  our  hearts 
under  ordinary  conditions.  I  summoned  up  sufficient 
presence  of  mind,  however,  to  whisk  him  up  from  under 
the  very  feet  of  a  cab-horse. 

The  quickly-gathered  crowd  was  very  indignant  with 
me,  and  said  it  was  "a  shame,  poor  little  darling,"  but, 
since  I  was  always  addicted  to  such  unreasonableness 
myself  on  seeing  children  and  animals  coerced  into  safety, 
I  was  not  so  indignant  as  was  my  old  nurse. 

Mr.  "Romeo,"  still  faithful,  in  spite  of  all  rebuffs, 
sent  me  long  letters  of  congratulation  at  Willie's  re- 
covery. One  in  particular  I  remember  caused  an  in- 
dignant snort  and  sardonic  chuckle  from  Willie  when 
I  gave  it  to  him  to  amuse  him.  It  said  that  in  Willie's 
place  he  would  have  "lain  to  kiss  my  feet  for  the  rest 
of  his  life"  had  he  been  nursed  as  I  had  nursed  Willie! 
Willie  said  he  was  glad  that  Romeo  of  the  ample  girth 
had  not  suffered  this  discomfort  of  gratitude. 

Better  circumstances  arising  on  Willie's  recovery  of 
health,  we  were  anxious  to  get  away  from  the  depres- 
sions of  Harrow  Road,  with  its  constant  processions  of 
hearses  and  mourners  on  the  way  to  Kensal  Green 
Cemetery. 

After  a  weary  hunt  we  finally  decided  upon  a  house 
in  Beaufort  Gardens.  Willie  insisted  upon  the  extrav- 
agance of  having  a  paper  of  silver  and  blue  specially 
made  in  Paris  for  the  drawing-room.  This  very  beau- 
tiful paper  showed  up  the  extreme  ugliness  of  our  furni- 
ture to  great  disadvantage.     However,  it  was  all  very 

90 


MRS.    PARNELL    IN     1873 
From  a  water-colou  -  drawing 


BEAUFORT  GARDENS 

comfortable,  and  the  change  from  Harrow  Road  agree- 
able. 

My  French  maid  rejoiced  in  returning  to  her  light 
duties  as  lady's  maid,  and  reigned  over  a  staff  of  maids 
in  unison  with  the  butler. 

Selby,  at  last  convinced  that  race-horses  were  out  of 
the  question  with  us,  left  us,  with  mutual  expressions 
of  esteem,  to  seek  more  congenial  surroundings. 

We  went  to  Beaufort  Gardens  in  1872,  and  Willie 
insisted  upon  my  making  manj^  new  acquaintances.  We 
soon  found  ourselves  in  a  social  swirl  of  visits,  visitors, 
and  entertainments.  I  had  always  disliked  society,  as 
such,  and  this  appeared  to  me  to  be  almost  as  bad  as 
the  Bennington  dinner-party  days,  without  the  com- 
pensating circumstances.  Willie,  however,  thoroughly 
enjoyed  this  life,  and  as  he  was  always  worrying  me  to 
dress  in  the  latest  fashion,  and  would  have  a  Frenchman 
in  to  dress  my  hair  before  every  party,  I  became  very 
rebellious. 

Here  my  eldest  daughter  was  born,  and  I  was  glad 
of  the  rest  from  parties  and  balls  —  even  though  so  many 
people  I  did  not  care  to  see  came  "to  cheer  me  up  I" 

As  soon  as  I  was  about  again  the  life  I  found  so  weari- 
some recommenced.  After  escorting  me  home  from  a 
dance  or  reception  that  I  had  not  wanted  to  go  to, 
Willie  would  go  off  again  to  "finish  up  the  night,"  and 
one  night,  when  in  terror  I  was  seeking  for  burglars,  I 
found  a  policeman  sitting  on  the  stairs.  He  explained 
genially  that  the  door  was  open,  and  he  thought  it 
better  to  come  inside  and  guard  the  door  for  the  Cap- 
tain's return! 

Of  the  many  small  items  of  Willie's  wishes  that  I 
loathed  was  having  my  hair  dressed  in  the  prevailing 
French   style.     One   evening,    when   we   were   going   to 

91 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

some  stupid  function,  Cunninghame  Graham  came  in, 
looked  at  my  hair,  and  cried  aghast,  "Do  take  it  down. 
Youngest.  You  look  awful!"  As  my  own  conviction 
was  similar  I  lost  no  time  in  doing  so,  and  afterwards 
used  Cunninghame's  opinion  in  defence  of  my  own  per- 
sonality. 

We  gave  dinner  parties  to  various  people  of  note 
at  that  time,  especially  to  the  great  world  of  Paris  in 
London,  or  visiting  London;  for  Willie's  family  had 
greatly  intermarried  in  France,  and  his  mother  and 
sister  lived  chiefly  in  Paris,  while  Willie  was  very  popu- 
lar at  the  French  and  Spanish  Embassies.  I  remember 
on  one  dreary  occasion  the  butler  informed  me  con- 
fidentially that  the  cook  was  so  desperately  drunk  that 
he  "had  a  misgiving"  as  to  the  "success"  of  dinner. 
An  agitated  descent  to  the  kitchen  proved  to  me  that 
the  cook,  already  asleep  under  the  table,  affectionately^ 
embracing  a  bottle,  was  beyond  any  misgiving;  and  I 
sternly  ordered  her  unsympathetic  fellow-labourers  to 
remove  her,  while  I  cooked  the  dinner  myself.  As  re- 
gards the  dinner  this  solution  of  the  difficulty  was  ab- 
solutely successful,  but  a  good  cook  makes  a  heated  and 
absent-minded  hostess. 

Alfred  Austin  —  not  then  Poet  Laureate  - —  was  a 
great  friend  and  constant  visitor  of  ours  at  that  time. 
He  had  been  at  school  —  at  Oscott  —  with  Willie,  and 
he  was,  I  remember,  extremely  sensitive  to  criticism. 

"Owen  Meredith,"  Lord  Lytton,  was  also  a  frequent 
visitor,  especially  when  my  sister  Anna  was  with  us  — 
she  being  sympathetic  to  his  genius. 

I  was  always  glad  to  see  Willie's  Spanish  relations 
who  came  over  to  England,  especially  Guielmo,  the 
eldest  son  of  Willie's  uncle,  John  O'Shea.  Guielmo 
was  devoted  to  my  children,  and  his  coming  was  the 

92 


BEAUFORT  GARDENS 

signal  for  wild  games  with  "Cousin  Giraffe,"  as  they 
called  him.  Guielmo  had  a  most  charming  little  ro- 
mance which  he  confided  to  me.  He  had,  when  very 
young,  fallen  in  love  with  a  beautiful  young  Spanish 
girl,  the  sister  of  a  friend  of  his.  She  was  absolutely 
blind,  and  his  parents  and  friends  urged  him  to  look 
elsewhere  for  a  wife.  But  his  was  a  faithful  soul,  and 
after  some  years  of  determined  waiting  the  elders  gave 
way,  and  a  very  happy  and  successful  marriage  was  the 
result. 


93 


CHAPTER  XII 

MORE    FINANCIAL    DIFFICULTIES 

"  Thus  tohile  Thy  several  mercies  plot 
And  work  on  me,  now  cold,  now  hot. 
The  work  goes  on,  and  slacketh  not."  —  Vaughan. 

I  THINK  Willie  and  I  were  beginning  to  jar  upon  one 
another  a  good  deal  now,  and  I  loved  to  get  away  for 
long  walks  by  myself  through  the  parks  of  London. 
Kensington  Gardens  was  a  great  solace  to  me  in  all 
seasons  and  weathers,  and  I  spent  much  of  my  time 
there.  I  often  turned  into  the  Brompton  Oratory  on 
my  way  home  for  a  few  minutes'  peace  and  rest  of  body 
and  soul,  and  these  quiet  times  were  a  comfort  to  me 
when  suffering  from  the  fret  and  worry  of  my  domestic 
life.  The  kneeling  figures  waiting  for  Benediction,  the 
prevailing  sense  of  harmony  which  seems  to  embrace 
one  in  the  Catholic  churches,  soothed  and  rested  me. 
The  great  comfort  I  have  always  found  in  the  Catholic 
churches,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  is  that  one  is  al- 
lowed to  rest  in  peace,  to  acquire  knowledge  if  one  will, 
but  unforced,  unretarded  by  spiritual  busybodies,  who 
are  so  anxious  to  help  the  Almighty  that  they  hinder 
Him  with  their  fussy,  impertinent  attentions  to  the 
souls  to  whom  He  is  perhaps  trying  to  speak. 

I  first  made  my  way  to  the  Oratory  when  my  daughter 
Norah  was  baptised,   and   some  little  time  afterwards 

one  of  the  Fathers  called  on  me.     Finally  Father 

undertook  to  call  regularly  to  instruct  me  in  the  Catholic 

94 


MORE  FINANCIAL  DIFFICULTIES 

religion.  He  and  the  other  priests  lent  me  any  books 
I  wanted,  and  "The  Threshold  of  the  CathoHc  Faith," 
and  one  other  I  have  now.  That  I  never  got  bej^ond 
the  "Threshold"  was  no  fault  of  these  good  Fathers, 
who  taught  me  with  endless  patience  and  uncompro- 
mising directness.  But  I  had  before  me  two  types  of 
Catholic  in  Willie  and  his  mother  and  sister,  and  both 
were  to  n.e  stumbling-blocks.  The  former  was,  as  I 
knew,  whal  they  call  a  "careless  Catholic,"  and  I  thought 
that  if  he  who  had  been  born  in  that  faith  that  means 
so  much,  made  so  little  of  it,  perhaps  it  was  more  of 
a  beautiful  dream  than  a  reality  of  life.  Yet  when  I 
turned  and  considered  those  "good  Catholics,"  his 
mother  and  sister,  I  found  such  a  fierce  bigotry  and 
deadly  dullness  of  outlook,  such  an  immense  piety  and 
so  small  a  charity,  that  my  whole  being  revolted  against 
such  a  belittling  of  God-given  life.  Now,  I  know  that 
Mary  and  the  Comtesse  disliked  me  personally,  and 
also  that  my  temperament  was  antagonistic  to  theirs, 
as  indeed  to  Willie's,  though  the  affection  he  and  I  had 
for  one  another  eased  the  friction  between  us;  but  youth 
judges  so  much  by  results,  and  my  excursion  into  the 
CathoHc  religion  ended  in  abrupt  revolt  against  all  forms 
and  creeds.  This  feeling  was  intensified  when  my 
second  little  girl.  Carmen,  was  born  and  christened  at 
the  Oratory.  I  would  not  go  in,  but  stood  waiting  in 
the  porch,  where  I  had  so  often  marked  tired  men  and 
women  passing  in  to  pray  after  their  hard  and  joyless 
day  of  toil,  and  I  felt  that  my  children  were  taken  from 
me,  and  that  I  was  very   lonely. 

My  Uncle  William,  Lord  Hatherley,  was  Lord  High 
Chancellor  at  this  time,  and  we  were  a  good  deal  at 
his  house,  both  at  "functions"  and  privately.  His  great 
friend.    Dean    Stanley,    was    very    kind    to   me;    Dean 

95 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Hook  came,  too,  and  many  other  Churchmen  were  con- 
tinually in  and  out  in  their  train.  My  cousin,  WilHam 
Stephens,  who  afterwards  became  Dean  of  Winchester, 
was  then  a  very  good-looking  and  agreeable  young  man; 
he  followed  my  uncle  about  like  a  shadow,  and  my 
uncle  and  Aunt  Charlotte  were  devoted  to  him.  But 
my  uncle  gathered  other  society  than  that  of  Church- 
men about  him,  and  it  amused  me  to  watch  for  the  pick 
of  the  intellectual  world  of  the  day  as  they  swarmed 
up  and  down  the  stairs  at  the  receptions,  with  the 
necessary  make-weight  of  people  who  follow  and  pose 
in  the  wake  of  the  great. 

Willie  insisted  upon  his  wife  being  perfectly  gowned 
on  these  occasions,  and  as  he  so  often  got  out  of  going 
to  those  functions  and  insisted  on  my  going  alone,  cer- 
tain other  relations  of  Lord  Hatherley's  would  hover 
round  me  with  their  spiteful  remarks  of:  "Dear  Katie, 
alone  again!  poor  dear  girl,  where  does  he  go.^  How 
odd  that  you  are  so  often  alone  —  how  little  you  know!" 
I  was  fond  of  my  old  uncle  and  he  of  me,  but  these 
Httle  amenities  did  not  make  me  like  these  social  func- 
tions better,  especially  as  his  wife,  my  Aunt  Charlotte, 
had  a  most  irritating  habit  of  shutting  her  eyes  when 
greeting  me,  and,  with  her  head  sHghtly  to  one  side, 
saying,  "Poor  dear!     Poor  lovely  lamb!" 

Uncle  William's  failing  eyesight  finally  led  to  his  resigna- 
tion, and,  though  he  felt  that  he  needed  his  well-earned 
rest,  it  was  a  hard  trial  to  him  to  resign  the  Chan- 
cellorship, to  which  he  had  worked  his  way,  absolutely 
without  aid  or  influence,  from  the  lowest  rung  of  the 
ladder  of  law.  But  in  his  days  of  rest  he  had  the  comfort  of 
knowing  that  what  he  had  worked  for  he  had  attained,  and, 
as  was  said  of  him  by  one  who  knew  him  so  well  —  Dean 
Stanley  —  he  had  kept  his  "heart  and  fingers  clean." 

96 


MORE  FINANCIAL  DIFFICULTIES 

My  Uncle  William  and  his  Avife  always  deplored  that 
they  were  childless,  and  it  was  in  an  access  of  bitter- 
ness that  he  once  exclaimed:  "God  Vvithholds  sons,  but 
the  devil  sends  nephews!"  in  allusion  to  one  who  had 
given  him  considerable  trouble. 

My  Aunt  Charlotte  led  a  very  busy,  fussy  life,  and, 
when  pressed  for  time,  often  sent  her  carriage  for  me, 
so  that  I  should  leave  cards,  and,  where  necessary, 
write  her  name  in  the  visitors'  book  of  the  great  or 
Royal  houses  where  she  and  my  uncle  went  as  guests. 
They  were  the  most  devoted  married  people  I  have 
ever  seen,  and,  if  there  be  such  a  state  in  married  life, 
theirs  was  a  perfect  union. 

My  sister.  Lady  Barrett-Lennard,  had  a  house  in 
Whitehall  Gardens  for  that  season  in  order  to  "bring 
out"  her  eldest  daughter,  and,  as  my  other  sister,  iMrs. 
Steele,  came  up  to  town  occasionally,  I  saw  a  good  deal 
of  them,  and  was  happier  and  more  amused  than  I  had 
been  for  some  time.  I  had  become  fond  of  London, 
all  my  children  were  strong  and  healthy  there,  and  I 
was  very  proud  of  the  gold,  curly  heads  and  fair  skins 
as  they  went  off  to  the  park  in  the  morning.  I  once 
accompanied  a  lady  who  was  staying  with  us  to  her 

French  dressmaker,   Madame ,   who  tried  hard   to 

persuade  me  to  order  some  gowns,  but  who  was  delighted 
and  did  not  worry  me  further,  w^hen  I  said,  "My  chil- 
dren are  my  clothes!"  She  considered  the  sentiment 
so  pretty! 

My  only  son,  Gerard,  was  now  a  beautiful  golden- 
haired  boy  of  four  years,  with  a  dazzHngly  fair  skin 
and  dancing  eyes  of  Irish  blue.  We  wished  to  have 
his  portrait  painted  by  a  lady  who  exhibited  at  the 
Royal  Academy,  but  he  was  as  naughty  as  he  was  beau- 
tiful,  and  neither  bribes   nor  threats   could   keep   him 

97 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

still  for  a  moment.  We  were  in  despair  until  I  remem- 
bered his  ambition  to  be  left  alone  on  the  top  of  the 
housemaid's  steps.  There  he  was  allowed  to  perch 
till  a  not  very  successful  portrait  was  completed,  and 
he  brought  the  sittings  to  a  close  with  the  confidently 
expected  dive,  head-first  to  the  floor,  causing  the  un- 
<^anny  silence  characteristic  of  this  boy  when  hurt,  a 
silence  that  always  seemed  to  stop  my  heart  while  it 
rejoiced  his  father's.  The  little  boy  would  howl  the 
house  down  in  the  ungovernable  rages  he  at  times  in- 
dulged in,  but  when  hurt  he  would  shut  his  mouth 
tightly,  and  no  anxious  inquiries  could  get  more  than 
a  stifled  "I'm  thinkin'"  out  of  him. 

This  winter,  following  the  birth  of  my  second  girl, 
was  bitterly  cold,  and  my  health,  which  had  not  been 
good  for  some  time  before  her  birth,  caused  much  anx- 
iety. After  a  consultation  between  Sir  William  Gull, 
Sir  William  Jenner,  and  my  usual  doctor,  it  was  de- 
cided that  we  should  go  to  Niton,  Isle  of  Wight,  as  I 
was  too  weak  to  travel  far.  My  dear  old  aunt,  Mrs. 
Benjamin  Wood,  sent  her  own  doctor  to  me,  and  he 
recommended  me  to  inject  opium  —  an  expression  of 
opinion  that  horrified  Sir  Wilham  Jenner  into  saying, 
"That  man's  mad,  or  wants  to  get  rid  of  you!" 

I  had  heard  from  Willie's  Spanish  cousins  that  small- 
pox was  raging  in  Madrid,  and  the  doctors  could  not 
get  enough  vaccine  to  vaccinate  their  patients.  This 
was  in  the  summer,  and  I  bought  as  many  tubes  as  I 
could  get,  and  sent  them  to  Madrid.  My  apparently 
charitable  act  had  made  my  own  doctor  so  angry  that 
he  would  not  come  near  me  this  winter  till  he  heard 
that  I  was  really  very  ill.  It  appeared  that  I  had  up- 
set some  extraordinary  red-tape  etiquette  of  the  medi- 
cal profession.     I  showed  him  the  letters  of  heart-felt 

98 


MORE  FINANCIAL  DIFFICULTIES 

gratitude  that  I  had  received  from  the  Spanish  doctors, 
and  they  molhfied  him  somewhat  —  even  though  he 
could  not  read  them! 

Our  pecuniary  affairs  were  again  causing  us  consider- 
able anxiety,  but  my  dear  aunt  played  the  fairy  godmother 
once  more,  and  sent  Willie  a  cheque  so  that  we  could  go 
to  Niton  without  worry  or  anxiety,  and  stop  there  until 
my  health  should  be  re-established.  So  we  said  good-bye 
to  our  friends,  and,  among  others,  to  the  good  priests  of 
the  Oratory,  w^ho  begged  me  to  pray  for  the  faith  to  see 
what  they  had  failed  to  convince  me  of. 

We  were  delighted  with  the  summer  w^armth  of  the 
sun  at  Niton,  and  spent  a  happy  Christmas  basking 
in  it.  Since  the  hotel  was  very  expensive,  Willie  es- 
tablished me  in  lodgings  with  the  children  and  nurses 
in  Ventnor,  and,  finding  the  place  decidedly  dull,  re- 
turned to  London. 

The  children  and  I  w^andered  about  out  of  doors  all 
day,  but  I  was  kept  awake  night  after  night  by  the 
foghorns  and  sometimes  by  signals  of  distress  from 
Blackgang  Chine.  The  proprietress  of  the  house  used 
to  come  to  me  at  night  and  tell  me  how  her  husband 
had  been  called  out  to  help  in  the  lifeboat.  Two  ter- 
rible wrecks  occurred  there.  We  watched  until  morn- 
ing for  the  boat  wliile  the  storm  was  beating  against 
the  house  and  the  waves  were  raging  against  the  rocks 
and  making  sport  of  the  human  hves  they  were  batter- 
ing to  death. 

The  local  doctor  at  Ventnor,  who  had  been  put  in 
charge  of  my  shattered  health,  was  not  satisfied  that 
it  was  in  any  way  improving,  and,  finding  one  day  that 
I  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  sleeping  draughts,  he  snorted 
angrily  off  to  the  chemist  and  returned  with  a  large 
tin  of  meat  extract,  with  which  he  presented  me,  add- 

99 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

ing  the  intiination  that  it  was  worth  a  dozen  bottles  of 
my  draught  —  which  happened  to  be  a  powder  • —  and 
that  my  London  doctors  were  bereft  of  intelhgence.  I 
was  too  tired  to  argue  the  point  and  contented  myself 
with  the  observation  that  all  doctors  save  the  one  in 
attendance  were  fellows  in  unintelligence  —  a  senti- 
ment he  considered  suspiciously  for  some  moments  be- 
fore snorting  away  like  the  amiable  little  steam  engine 
he  was.  His  specific  for  sleeplessness  was  much  more 
wholesome  than  drugs,  and  I  have  always  found  it  so 
since  then. 


[100 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CAPTAIN   O'SHEA    ENTERS   POLITICAL   LIFE 

"D'un  coeuT  qui  faime, 

Mon  Dieu,  qui  pent  trouhler  la  tranquille  paix, 
II  cherche,  en  tout,  ta  volonte  supreme. 

Et  ne  se  cherche  jamais, 
Sur  la  terre,  dans  le  del  mhne. 

Est  il,  (T autre  bonheur  que  la  tranquille  paix 
D'un  cceur  qui  t'aiine."  —  Racine. 

Willie  was  too  busy  to  come  down  to  Ventnor  again, 
and  I  became  so  depressed  by  the  relaxing  air  and  by 
the  sight  of  the  many  poor,  consumptive  people  I  met 
at  every  turn,  veritable  signposts  in  their  different 
stages  of  disease,  of  the  road  I  had  been  warned  that 
I  was  on,  that  I  decided  to  go  nearer  home.  My  doc- 
tor suggested  Hastings,  and  there  I  went,  taking  my 
small  family  imder  the  kindly  escort  of  one  of  ray  nephews. 
When  this  young  man  had  settled  me  with  the  children 
and  maids  at  St.  Leonards,  with  most  careful  consid- 
eration for  our  comfort,  he  informed  his  Uncle  Willie  of 
the  whereabouts  of  his  family. 

Willie  soon  came  down,  and,  as  my  health  improved 
rapidly,  we  stayed  on  for  some  time,  making  frequent 
visits  to  my  Aunt  "Ben"  at  Eltham,  who  was  making 
our  stay  at  the  seaside  possible.  This  was  practically 
my  first  introduction  to  my  aunt,  as  my  former  visits 
were  when,  as  a  little  child,  I  was  only  allowed  to  sit 
by  her  side  in  the  "tapestry  room"  trying  to  do  some 
needlework  under  her  supervision,  and  assisting  her  in 

101 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

the  consumption  of  the  luscious  peaches  she  always  had 
on  the  table.  In  those  days  I  would  have  been  wild 
with  terror  at  the  idea  of  being  left  alone  with  this 
aunt,  who  always  wore  the  fashions  of  her  early  Vic- 
torian youth,  and  who  would  not  tolerate  the  slightest 
noise  in  the  house.  I  now  found  her  of  fascinating  in- 
terest, and  even  the  painful  sense  of  "hush"  in  her 
house,  the  noiseless  stepping  of  the  servants  and  the 
careful  seclusion  of  sunlight  had  attractions  for  me. 
My  uncle,  Benjamin  Wood,  had  died  very  many  years 
before,  and  my  aunt  never  alluded  to  him.  She  her- 
self had  never  left  Eltham  since  his  death,  and  had  only 
once  been  in  a  railway  train,  living  in  complete  seclu- 
sion in  her  fine  old  Georgian  house,  only  "taking  the 
air"  in  the  grounds  adjoining  or  emerging  forth  in  her 
chariot  to  drive  for  an  hour  daily. 

Her  curious  old-world  mode  of  speech  and  what  she 
termed  "deportment,"  together  with  her  outlook  on 
life  across  half  a  century  ignored,  lent  a  piquancy  to 
her  conversation  that  was  delightful.  She  lived  in  the 
intellectual  world  of  the  Greek  poets,  and  of  Addison, 
Swift  and  Racine;  and  there  was  a  leisure  and  a  schol- 
arly atmosphere  about  her  life  that  seemed  to  banish 
the  hurry  and  turmoil  of  the  modern  world  at  her  gate. 
She  was  extremely  generous  in  subscribing  to  what  she 
termed  "Organisations  for  the  better  conduct  of  chari- 
table relief,"  and,  though  of  no  particular  religious  be- 
lief, she  subscribed  to  the  various  objects  of  local  charity 
when  asked  to  do  so  by  the  clergyman  of  the  parish. 
The  latter  gentleman  once  made  the  mistake  of  offer- 
ing to  read  the  Scriptures  to  her  on  the  occasion  of  an 
illness,  and  I  well  remember  his  face  of  consternation 

when  she  replied:  "I  thank  you,  Mr. ,  but  I  am 

still  well  able  to  read,  and  the  Scriptures  do  not  interest 

102 


CAPTAIN  O'SHEA  ENTERS  POLITICAL  LIFE 

me."  Yet  during  the  many  years  I  spent  in  constant 
companionship  with  her  the  quiet  peace  which  reigned 
by  her  side  gave  me  the  most  restful  and  soothing  hours 
of  my  hfe. 

On  these  visits  of  ours,  from  St.  Leonards,  Wilhe 
and  I  only  went  for  the  day,  since  my  old  aunt  objected 
to  "gentlemen  visitors"  staying  in  the  house,  declar- 
ing that  it  "perturbed"  the  routine  of  her  "domestic 
staff."  After  we  had  paid  her  several  visits  in  this  way 
she  informed  me  that  she  had  ascertained  that  I  was 
much  alone,  that  she  was  very  tenderly  attached  to  me, 
and  would  wish  to  provide  for  me  and  my  children  if 
I  would  come  to  live  near  her  so  that  I  could  be  her 
constant  companion.  She  added  that  she  considered 
that  this  arrangement  would  be  more  "seemly"  for  me, 
as  Willie  was  obliged  to  be  away  from  home  so  much. 

After  consultation  with  the  (county  court)  judge,  Gor- 
don Whitbread,  her  nephew  and  my  cousin,  who  always 
transacted  her  business  for  her,  she  bought  a  house 
for  me  at  the  other  side  of  her  park,  and  arranged 
to  settle  a  regular  income  on  me  and  to  educate  my 
children.  In  return  she  asked  that  her  "Swan"^ — as 
she  always  called  me  —  should  be  her  daily  companion. 
This  I  was  until  her  death,  at  the  age  of  ninety-four, 
about  fifteen  years  later. 

My  aunt  lived  a  life  of  great  seclusion,  and,  with 
the   exception   of   George   Meredith    (the   author),   and 

the  Rev. Wilkinson,  who  each  came  down  once  a 

week  to  read  to  her,  her  oculist  and  great  friend.  Dr. 
Bader,  and  two  old  ladies,  friends  of  her  youth,  she 
rarely  saw  anyone. 

My  aunt  was  very  fond  of  me,  and  I  was  with  her 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  day  —  reading  to  her,  writing 
for  her,  wheeling  her  up  and  down  the  great  tapestry 

103 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

room,  or  walking  quietly  in  the  grounds.  Chislehurst 
is  near  Eltham,  and  on  the  drives  we  took  in  the  great 
old-fashioned  * 'chariot"  (which  had  the  motion  of  a  ship 
nearing  the  shore)  we  sometimes  met  a  beautiful  woman 
driving  herself,  with  one  servant  behind  her.  I  remember 
on  one  occasion  my  aunt,  who  was  very  short-sighted, 
observed  that  her  servants  touched  their  hats  as  this 
lady  went  by.  She  said  nothing  at  the  time,  but  when  we 
returned  home,  and  she  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  house 
leaning  on  my  arm,  she  turned  and  said  to  her  coach- 
man: "Frost,  I  observed  that  you  and  Henry  saluted  a 
lady  during  our  airing." 

"Yes,  ma'am,  the  Empress  Eugenie,  ma'am." 

"Never  do  that  again.  Frost.  I  forbid  my  servants 
to  salute  that  lady." 

As  I  helped  her  up  the  steps  she  murmured  indig- 
nantly to  herself  —  for  she  was  of  the  old  regime  and 
an  ardent  Legitimist. 

I  w^as  generally  w^ith  my  aunt  from  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning,  returning  to  my  children  at  lunch- 
time,  and  in  the  afternoon  I  got  home  for  dinner,  should 
Willie  happen  to  return.  These  quiet  years  with  my 
aunt  were  a  liberal  education  to  me,  as  she  was  a  good 
Latin  and  French  scholar,  and  so  proficient  in  Greek 
that  up  to  the  last  week  of  her  life  she  translated  Greek 
verse.  She  used  to  explain  to  me,  when  I  asked  why 
she  was  so  particular  in  sending  her  servants  to  church, 
that,  although  she  professed  no  belief  herself,  she  had 
observed  it  was  "beneficial  to  others,"  and  that  her 
father  —  Admiral  Samson  Michell,  of  the  Portuguese 
Navy  —  had  very  carefully  instructed  his  daughters  — 
my  mother  and  aunts  ^ — "in  the  Christian  rehgion;  to 
his  great  solace." 

To  the  maids  she  particularly  commended  religious 

104 


CAPTAIN  O'SHEA  ENTERS  POLITICAL  LIFE 

observance  as  being  productive  of  "propriety  of  conduct." 
She  always  encouraged  any  religious  feeling  she  ob- 
served in  me,  and  made  me  read  Nelson's  *' Festivals 
and  Fasts"  and  Jeremy  Taylor  to  her  on  Sundays;  un- 
less Willie  came  down  from  London  and  read  French  to 
her.  Willie  was  an  excellent  linguist,  and  his  French 
had  the  perfect  accent  she  delighted  in. 

Sunday  evenings  used  to  be  rather  a  trial  to  me,  as 
my  aunt  would  order  all  her  servants  up  to  her  sitting- 
room,  so  that  they  should  repeat  the  verses  she  had 
given  them  to  learn  by  heart,  or  the  collects  for  the  day, 
so  that  she  might  know  that  they  had  used  their  leisure 
hours  during  the  week  in  a  "rational"  manner.  The 
servants  hated  these  excursions  into  culture,  and,  from 
the  man-servant,  whose  "piece"  always  lacked  aspirates, 
to  the  kitchenmaid,  round,  crimson,  and  uncomfortable, 
whose  "portion"  always  halted  despairingly  in  the  mid- 
dle, they  kept  their  resentful  gaze  fixed  upon  me,  who 
held  the  book  —  and  the  thankless  office  of  prompter. 

My  aunt's  house  —  "The  Lodge,"  Eltham  —  w^as  fine 
old  Georgian,  spoilt  inside  by  the  erection  of  mock 
pillars  in  the  hall.  Years  before  I  joined  my  aunt 
at  Eltham,  my  mother,  being  of  a  curious  disposition, 
took  off  some  of  the  blue  paper  on  a  wall  that  appeared 
to  move  when  the  wind  was  strong.  She  thus  dis- 
covered that  the  walls  were  hung  with  beautiful  old 
tapestry  depicting  scriptural  and  mythological  scenes. 

My  aunt  had  all  the  papers  removed  b}^  experts, 
and  the  result  disclosed  a  most  wonderful  collection 
of  tapestry.  It  was  Crown  property,  and  she  was 
rewarded  for  the  expense  of  restoring  the  beauty  of 
the  house  by  an  application  from  the  authorities  to 
have  it  —  the  tapestry  —  delivered  over  to  them.  As  it 
was  found  that  to  move  it  would  be  to  ruin  it,  she  was 

105 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

allowed  to  retain  it  in  her  possession,  and  I  believe  it 
still  hangs  in  the  house,  which  has  now  been  turned 
into  the  Eltham  Golf  Club. 

I  have  heard  that  the  late  King  Edward  went  over 
the  house  some  years  after  my  aunt's  death  and  had 
one  of  the  beautiful  chimney-pieces  removed  to  one 
of  his  own  houses.  I  have  a  verj^  fond  memorj^  of  the 
old  red  house  shadowed  by  great  beech  trees,  and  of  the 
very  old  elm  trees  in  the  "little  park,"  where  a  sud- 
den crash  in  heavy  summer  weather  would  warn  us 
that  another  of  these  dangerous  old  giants  had  fallen 
under  the  weight  of  years  and  foliage. 

My  aunt  was  very  particular  that  no  one  should 
tread  upon  the  highly  polished  floors  of  her  house, 
and,  as  the  two  large  halls  had  only  rugs  laid  about 
on  the  shining  surface,  one  had  either  to  make  many 
"tacks"  to  reach  the  desired  door  or  seat,  or  take  a 
short  cut  on  tiptoe  and  risk  her  "displeasure." 

It  was  amusing  to  watch  George  Meredith  on  his 
excursion  from  the  front  door  to  the  dressing-room 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  where  my  aunt  kept  three 
pairs  of  slippers  for  the  use  of  her  "gentlemen  readers" 
lest  their  boots  should  soil  the  carpets.  To  reach  this 
little  room  he  had  —  if  in  a  good  mood  and  conform- 
ing to  his  old  friend's  regulations  —  to  walk  straight 
ahead  past  the  room,  and  make  a  detour  round  a  pillar 
of  (imitation)  green  marble  and  a  table,  back  to  the 
door.  On  days  of  rebellion  against  these  forms  and 
ceremonies  he  would  hesitate  for  a  moment  just  inside 
the  door,  and,  with  a  reckless  uplifting  of  his  head,  begin 
a  hasty  stride  across  the  sacred  places;  a  stride  which 
became  an  agitated  tip-toeing  under  the  scandalised 
gaze  of  the  footman.  Before  he  began  to  read  to  my 
aunt  the  following  dialogue  invariably  took  place :  — 

106 


CAPTAIN  O'SHEA  ENTERS  POLITICAL  LIFE 

"Now,  my  dear  lady,  I  will  read  you  something  of 
my  own." 

"Indeed,  my  dear  Mr.  Meredith,  I  cannot  compre- 
hend your  works." 

"I  will  explain  my  meaning,  dear  Mrs.  Wood." 

"You  are  prodigiously  kind,  dear  Mr.  Meredith,  but 
I  should  prefer  Moliere  to-day." 

While  Willie  and  I  were  still  living  in  London  we 
went  down  one  day  to  see  a  furnished  house  we  wished 
to  rent  for  a  few  weeks,  and,  remembering  my  Aunt 
Ben's  injunction  to  convey  her  "felicitations  to  her  dear 
Mr.  Meredith,"  we  called  on  him. 

I  had  not  before  met  George  Meredith,  and  had  only 
read  one  of  his  works  —  and  that  "behind  the  door" 
when  I  was  very  young,  owing  to  some  belated  scruple 
of  my  elders.  I  remember,  as  we  neared  the  house, 
asking  Willie  the  names  of  Meredith's  other  works,  so 
that  I  might  be  ready  primed  with  intelligent  interest, 
and  Willie's  sarcastic  little  smile,  as  he  mentioned  one 
or  two,  adding,  "You  need  not  worry  yourself;  Mere- 
dith will  soon  enlighten  us  as  to  his  books.  They  say 
it's  the  one  thing  he  ever  talks  about."  But  we  spent 
a  delightful  afternoon  with  Mr.  Meredith,  who  showed 
us  all  his  literary  treasures  and  the  little  house  at  the 
end  of  the  garden  where  he  wrote.  While  we  sat  in 
the  lovely  little  garden  drinking  tea  our  host  descanted 
on  the  exquisite  haze  of  heat  that  threw  soft  shadows 
about  the  house  and  gave  the  great  trees  in  the  back- 
ground the  appearance  of  an  enchanted  forest.  George 
Meredith  was  "reader"  to  Chapman  and  Hall  in  those 
days,  and  he  spoke  to  me  appreciatively  of  the  work 
of  my  mother  and  sister,  who  published  with  Chapman 
and  Hall. 

In   these  days  at  Elthani   I   learnt  to  know   George 

107 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Meredith  very  well,  as  I  saw  him  almost  every  week 
when  he  came  down  to  read  to  my  aunt.  The  old  lady 
did  not  like  triangular  conversation,  so  as  soon  as  they 
were  fairly  launched  in  reading  or  conversation,  I  would 
gladly  slip  away  to  my  own  occupations.  To  Aunt 
Ben,  Meredith  appeared  to  be  a  very  young  man  in- 
deed, and  in  her  gentle,  high-bred  way  she  loved  to 
tease  him  about  his  very  great  appreciation  of  his  own 
work  —  and  person.  Meredith  took  her  gentle  raillery 
absolutely  in  good  part  and  would  hold  forth  upon 
what  the  literary  world  "of  all  time"  owed  him  in  his 
books,  and  also  upon  what  Lady  This-or-that  had  said 
in  admiration  of  his  good  looks  at  such-and-such  a 
gathering.  My  aunt  used  to  delight  in  these  tales, 
which  were  delivered  in  the  mock  serious  manner  of  a 
boy  telling  his  mother  of  his  prowess,  real  or  imagined; 
and  after  a  time  of  listening  to  him,  with  only  her  gently 
modulated  little  bursts  of  laughter  to  encourage  him, 
she  would  say,  "Oh,  my  dear  Mr.  Meredith,  your  con- 
ceit is  as  wonderful  as  your  genius!"  —  bringing  forth 
from  him  the  protest,  "My  dear  lady,  no!  But  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  you  to  hear  of  my  successes  and  to  me  to 
tell  you  of  them."  And  so  I  would  leave  them  to  their 
playful  badinage  and  reading. 

Meredith  was  very  fond  of  his  old  friend,  and  always 
treated  her  with  the  chivalrous  and  rather  elaborate 
courtesy  that  he  well  knew  she  delighted  in.  His  weekly 
visits  were  a  great  pleasure  to  her,  and  although  she 
would  not  allow  him  to  read  anything  modern  and 
never  anything  of  his  own  work,  I  think  he  must  have 
enjoyed  his  reading  and  talk  with  this  clever  old  ladj^ 
for  often  the  stipulated  two  hours  of  the  "classics  and 
their  discussion"  lengthened  into  the  three  or  four  that 
caused  him  to  miss  all  the  most  convenient  trains  home. 

108 


CAPTAIN  O'SHEA  ENTERS  POLITICAL  LIFE 

One  evening  as  I  was  going  into  the  house  I  saw  him 
standing  on  the  terrace  gazing  after  the  retreating  form 
of  my  httle  girl  Carmen,  then  about  six  years  old.  As 
I  came  up  he  pointed  at  the  stiff  little  back  and  said, 
"She  was  flying  along  like  a  fairy  Atalanta  when  I 
caught  her,  and  said,  'What  is  your  name?'  'Miss 
Nothin'-at-all ! '  she  replied,  with  such  fierce  dignity  that 
I  dropped  her  in  alarm." 

I  called  the  child  to  come  back  and  speak  politely  to  Mr. 
Meredith,  but,  to  his  amusement,  was  only  rewarded  by  an 
airy  wave  of  the  hand  as  she  fled  down  a  by-path. 

As  I  sometimes  chatted  to  Mr.  INIeredith  on  his  way 
through  the  grounds  to  the  station,  he  would  tell  me 
of  "that  blessed  woman,"  as  he  used  to  call  his  (second) 
wife,  already  then  dead,  and  of  how  he  missed  her  kind 
and  always  sympathetic  presence  on  his  return  home 
and  in  his  work.  Sometimes  the  handsome  head  would 
droop,  and  I  thought  he  looked  careworn  and  sad  as 
he  spoke  of  her,  and  in  doing  so  he  lost  for  the  mo- 
ment all  the  mannerisms  and  "effectiveness"  which  were 
sometimes  rather  wearisome  in  him.  As  my  aunt  grew 
very  old  she  —  in  the  last  few  years  of  her  life  —  be- 
came unequal  to  listening  and  talking  to  her  "gentlemen 
readers,"  and  to  me  she  deputed  the  task  of  telling 
them  so.  In  the  case  of  George  Meredith  it  was  rather 
painful  to  me,  as  I  feared  the  loss  of  the  £300  a  year 
my  aunt  had  so  long  paid  him  for  his  weekly  visits  might 
be  a  serious  one  to  him.  But  he,  too,  had  aged  in  all 
these  years,  and  perhaps  his  visits  to  his  old  friend  were 
becoming  rather  irksome  to  him  in  their  regularity. 
Curiously  enough,  I  shared  my  aunt's  inability  to  en- 
joy his  work,  and  to  the  last  I  met  his  mocking  inquiry 
as  to  my  "progress  in  literature"  (i.  e.  his  novels)  by  a 
deprecating  "Only  'Richard  Feverel.'" 

i09 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

The  house  my  aunt  bought  for  me  was  just  across 
her  park,  and  she  had  a  gate  made  in  the  park  fence 
so  that  I  might  go  backwards  and  forwards  to  her  house 
more  quickly.  My  house  was  a  comfortable  villa  with 
the  usual  little  "front  garden"  and  larger  one  in  the 
rear.  There  were  excellent  stables  at  the  end  of  this 
garden.  The  house,  "Wonersh  Lodge,"  had  the  usual 
dining-room  and  drawing-room,  with  two  other  sitting- 
rooms  opening  severally  into  the  garden  and  a  large 
conservatory,  which  I  afterwards  made  over  to  Mr. 
Parnell  for  his  own  use.  My  aunt  furnished  the  house, 
and  we  were  most  comfortable,  while  my  children  re- 
joiced in  having  the  run  of  the  park  and  grounds  after 
the  restraint  of  town  life. 

Willie  was  very  much  in  London  now,  and  occupied 
himself  in  getting  up  a  company  to  develop  some  min- 
ing business  in  Spain.  He  always  drew  up  a  prospectus 
excellently;  on  reading  it  one  could  hardly  help  be- 
lieving —  as  he  invariably  did  —  that  here  at  last  was 
the  golden  opportunity  of  speculators,  and  some  influ- 
ential men  became  keenly  interested  in  these  mining 
schemes  of  his. 

A  couple  of  years  after  having  settled  at  Eltham 
my  eldest  little  girl  became  dangerously  ill  with  scarlet 
fever  and  diphtheria,  owing  to  defective  drainage.  I 
sent  my  boy  and  my  other  little  girl  to  Paris,  to  their 
O'Shea  grandmother  and  aunt,  to  keep  them  from  in- 
fection, and  nursed  my  daughter  myself  until  I  got 
diphtheria  also,  and  then  we  lay  in  bed  together,  iso- 
lated, in  charge  of  a  nurse  and  faithful  maid.  My 
little  girl  used  to  whisper  huskily  that  it  was  "lovely  to 
be  ill-in-a-bed  wif  mummy  if  only  our  necks  didn't 
hurt  so  drefful  much."  We  were  both  very  ill,  and 
I  think  that  it  was  only  the  skilled  and  constant  atten- 

110 


CAPTAIN  O'SHEA  ENTERS  POLITICAL  LIFE 

tion  of  Dr.  Barker  that  pulled  us  through.  My  old 
aunt  was  very  disconsolate  at  my  long  absence  from 
her,  and  was  so  shocked  that  the  drains  should  have 
proved  dangerous  in  the  house  she  had  bought  for 
me  that  she  had  them  entirely  relaid  by  a  London 
expert. 

When  my  daughter  developed  scarlet  fever  I  asked 
Willie  to  stay  in  London  altogether  until  the  infectious 
stages  were  past.  This  he  did,  but  was  at  once  laid 
up  with  measles  on  his  own  account.  He  was  pecul- 
iarly subject  to  this  complaint,  and,  while  I  knew  him, 
he  caught  the  disease  no  fewer  than  four  times. 

When  my  little  girl  had  recovered  sufficiently  to 
travel  I  took  her  down  to  Folkestone  for  change  of  air. 

Our  old  friend,  Mr.  Hobson,  brought  down  a  beau- 
tiful collie  dog,  who  became  the  fast  friend  and  constant 
delight  of  my  children  until  she  died  of  old  age  years 
afterwards,  when  she  was  laid  in  the  honourable  grave 
which  the  three  moist-eyed  young  mourners  procured 
by  the  removal  of  my  best  rose  trees  in  the  middle  of 
the  lawn. 

At  Folkestone  I  met  my  boy  and  girl  returning  from 
their  grandmother  in  Paris.  The  two  children  had 
been  away  from  me  for  some  months,  and  I  hastened 
on  to  the  steamer  to  greet  them.  I  laughed  as  I  caught 
sight  of  the  very  formal  little  Frenchman  into  which 
they  had  turned  my  sturdy  young  son  and,  ignoring 
his  polite  hfting  of  his  hat  in  greeting,  had  in  two  minutes 
rumpled  him  into  the  noisy,  rough  httle  sinner  whom 
I  loved.  My  little  Carmen  was  more  difficult.  She 
looked  hke  a  httle  fairy  in  her  French  frills  and  laces, 
and  bitter  weeping  was  the  result  of  my  trying  to  take 
her  from  her  nurse.  This  exquisite  little  mortal  did 
not  thaw  to  me  for  some  days,  but  with  the  help  of  Elfie, 

111 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

the  collie,  I  gradually  won  her  affections  from  the  Paris 
of  her  baby-heart. 

I  was  very  glad  to  get  back  to  my  aunt  again  — 
someone  who  wanted  me  always.  The  children  were 
necessarily  much  with  their  nurses  and  governess, 
and  Willie's  Spanish  business  had  now  grown  into  a 
company,  some  acute  business  friends  of  his  thinking 
so  highly  of  it  that  they  put  into  it  sums  varying  from 
£1,000  to  £10,000.  Our  old  friend  Christopher  We- 
guelin  took  great  interest  in  it,  and  eventually  Willie 
was  offered  the  post  of  manager,  at  La  Mines,  at  a  good 
salary.  It  was  a  very  acceptable  post  to  Willie,  as  he 
loved  the  life  in  foreign  countries.  There  was  a  very 
good  house,  and  he  had  it  planted  round  with  eucalyptus 
trees  to  keep  off  the  fever  so  prevalent  there,  and  from 
which  the  men  working  the  mines  suffered  greatly. 

Willie  was,  however,  immune  to  fever,  and  never  had  it. 
He  was  away  in  Spain  for  over  eighteen  months  this  time, 
and  did  not  come  home  at  all  during  the  period. 

I  had  to  pay  frequent  visits  to  London  when  samples 
of  the  sulphur  were  sent  home  for  testing  purposes, 
to  see  Mr.  Weguelin,  and  to  place  the  constant  demands 
for  new  machinery  in  as  ingratiating  a  way  as  possible 
before  various  members  of  the  "board."  It  seemed 
impossible  to  get  the  English  firms  to  do  their  business 
thoroughly,  and  no  sooner  had  Willie  reported  the 
arrival  of  the  new  machinery  than  he  cabled  that  parts 
were  missing.  All  these  unbusinesslike  methods  caused 
him  acute  irritation,  as  he  had  the  miners  there  on  his 
hands,  idle,  perpetually  awaiting  something  from  Eng- 
land; and,  to  relieve  his  feelings,  he  would  write  his 
reports  in  hot  language  to  me  that  I  might  show  them  in 
the  proper  quarter,  an  irregularity  which  did  not  please 
the  directors. 

112 


CAPTAIN  O'SHEA  ENTERS  POLITICAL  LIFE 

A  machine  for  crushing  the  ore  was  sent  out,  but, 
though  a  success,  the  colour  of  the  sulphur  was  not 
right.  Then  Willie  invented  and  patented  a  very  good 
machine  for  extracting  the  sulphur  from  the  ore,  and 
I  drew  up  a  report  from  his  instructions  on  this,  and 
had  it  verified  by  the  engineers  to  the  company.  But 
it  was  too  late,  and,  though  I  was  invited  to  the  dinner, 
given  by  members  of  the  board,  at  the  house  of  the 
analyst  who  was  to  make  the  last  test  of  the  sulphur,  the 
report  was  not  satisfactory  in  view  of  the  enormous 
amount  of  money  already  expended.  Mr.  C.  took  me 
to  the  dinner,  and  afterwards  I  went  with  my  host  to 
the  testing-room,  where  the  report  he  made  of  the 
sulphur  he  tested  was  very  good. 

I  remember  the  uncomfortable  sensation  I  experienced, 
all  during  this  experiment,  from  the  rich  beautiful  voice 
of  one  of  the  guests  of  the  evening,  who  was  singing  in 
the  adjoining  room.  My  companion  was  far  too  much 
absorbed  in  his  work  to  notice  it,  but  there  was  a  mad, 
exultant  ring  in  the  voice  that  blended  uncannily  with 
the  wild  song,  and  the  blue  flame,  and  the  most  foul 
smell  made  by  my  host  with  his  test-tubes.  On  our 
return  to  my  fellow-guests  I  noticed  that  the  other  men 
looked  uneasily  at  the  singer  as  he  got  up  from  the 
piano.  This  poor  friend  of  mine  became  hopelessly 
insane  a  few  months  afterwards,  and  that  horrible, 
wild  song  rang  perpetually  through  the  rooms  he  oc- 
cupied in  the  Maison  de  Sante  of  his  retirement. 

On  the  basis  of  this  last  report  Mr.  C.  did  what  he 
could  with  the  directors  of  the  company,  but  it  was  of 
no  use,  and  they  declined  to  sanction  further  expen- 
diture. Mr.  C,  whose  kindness  to  me  was  that  of 
an  elder  brother,  said  in  his  whimsical  way,  "Make 
us  one  of  your  ripping  pies,  and  I'll  have  one  more  try 

113 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

at  it  with  the  two ":  two  of  the  most  influential 

directors.  So  I  made  the  gorgeous  beefsteak  pie,  for 
which  I  had  been  famous  among  my  friends  since  child- 
hood, but  C.  came  to  me  afterwards  with  a  gloomy 
face  and  said,  "No  use,  the  pigs  wolfed  that  scrump- 
tious pie,  and  then,  though  I  said  you'd  made  it,  de- 
clared that  old  Father  William  was  to  be  ordered  home 
at  once,  and  the  mines  closed."  I  could  not  help  laugh- 
ing at  the  thought  of  a  pie  being  expected  to  turn  the 
decision  of  a  body  of  hard-headed  business  men,  but 
he  was  so  hurt  at  my  levity  that  I  stopped  to  sympa- 
thise with  him.  He  did  not  seem  to  regard  his  own 
position  of  discomfort  at  having  introduced  the  affair 
to  his  company  —  a  dead  loss  of  many  thousands  of 
pounds. 

My  son  now,  at  eight  years  old,  proved  too  much 
for  his  French  governess,  so  we  arranged  for  him  to 
go  to  a  school  at  Blackheath,  though  he  was  two  years 
younger  than  the  age  generally  accepted  there.  The 
little  girls  were  started  afresh  with  a  German  governess, 
and  on  Willie's  return  from  Spain  he  stayed  at  Eltham 
for  a  time. 

We  were  pleased  to  see  one  another  again,  but  once 
more  the  wearing  friction  caused  by  our  totally  dis- 
similar temperaments  began  to  make  us  feel  that  close 
companionship  was  impossible,  and  we  mutually  agreed 
that  he  should  have  rooms  in  London,  visiting  Eltham 
to  see  myself  and  the  children  at  week-ends.  After  a 
while  the  regularity  of  his  week-end  visits  became  very 
much  broken,  but  he  still  arrived  fairly  regularly  to 
take  the  children  to  Mass  at  Chislehurst  on  Sunday 
mornings,  and  he  would  often  get  me  up  to  town  to  do 
hostess  when  he  wished  to  give  a  dinner  party.  I  had 
all  my  life  been  well  known  at  Thomas's  Hotel,  Berkeley 

114 


CAPTAIN  O'SHEA  ENTERS  POLITICAL  LIFE 

Square,  as  my  parents  and  family  had  always  stayed 
there  when  in  London.  So  here  I  used  to  help  Willie 
with  his  parties,  and  to  suffer  the  boredom  incidental 
to  this  form  of  entertainment.  He  never  seemed  to 
have  anyone  at  all  amusing  —  with  the  exception  of 
one  or  two  old  friends  —  Sir  George  and  Lady  O'Don- 
nell.  Major  Whiteside  and  Graham,  and  I  liked  these 
much  better  at  Eltham,  where  one  had  more  time  to 
talk,  than  at  those  dinners. 

On  one  occasion  Willie,  v/ho  always  said  that  even 
if  only  for  the  sake  of  our  children  I  ought  not  to  "drop 
out  of  everything,"  worried  me  into  accepting  invita- 
tions to   a  ball  given  by  the   Countess ,   whom  I 

did  not  know,  and  for  this  I  came  up  to  town  late  in 
the  afternoon,  dined  quietly  at  the  hotel  by  myself, 
and  dressed  for  the  ball,  ready  for  Willie  to  fetch  me 
as  he  had  promised  after  his  dinner  with  some  friends. 
I  was  ready  at  half -past  eleven,  as  had  been  arranged, 
and  the  carriage  came  round  for  me  at  a  quarter  to 
twelve.  At  twelve  the  manageress,  a  friend  from  my 
childhood,  came  to  see  if  she  could  "do  anything  for 
me,"  as  Captain  O'Shea  was  so  late.  At  12.30  the  head 
waiter,  who  used  to  lift  me  into  my  chair  at  table  on 
our  first  acquaintance,  came  to  know  if  "Miss  Katie" 
was  anxious  about  "the  Captain,"  and  got  snubbed 
by  the  manageress  for  his  pains.  At  one  o'clock,  white 
with  anger  and  trembling  v\dth  mortification,  I  tore  off 
my  beautiful  frock  and  got  into  bed.  At  nine  o'clock 
the  next  morning  WiUie  called,  having  only  just  remem- 
bered my  existence  and  the  ball  to  which  he  was  to  have 
taken  me. 

Little  Major  Whiteside  was,  I  think,  at  that  time 
the  smallest  man  in  the  British  army,  and,  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  they  could  see  httle  else  than  busby  when 

115 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

he  was  on  horseback,  his  men  trembled  at  his  shghtest 
roar,  for  he  was  a  terrible  little  martinet.  He  and  his 
two  pretty  sisters,  who  over-topped  him  so  that  if  they 
stood  each  side  of  him  he  was  invisible,  had  been  very 
dear  friends  of  ours  for  years.  Although  this  valiant 
little  warrior  had  the  well-earned  reputation  in  the  army 
of  being  absolutely  fearless,  he  could  not  stand  the 
sudden  and  uproarious  cawing  of  rooks  aroused  from 
slumber,  and  on  my  taking  him  a  short  cut  to  the  sta- 
tion through  my  aunt's  rookery,  after  a  visit  to  us  at 
Eltham,  I  was  astounded  at  the  bound  of  terror  and 
volley  of  language  that  came  from  the  little  major  when 
our  disturbing  feet  roused  the  rooks.  Willie  used  to 
say  that  he  was  a  V.  C.  hero,  but  only  in  patches. 

Willie  was  now  longing  for  some  definite  occupation, 
and  he  knew  many  political  people.  While  he  was  on 
a  visit  to  Ireland  early  in  1880  he  was  constantly  urged 
by  his  friends,  the  O'Donnells  and  others,  to  try  for 
a  seat  in  the  next  Parliament.  A  dissolution  seemed 
imminent.  He  had  often  talked  of  becoming  a  mem- 
ber for  some  Irish  constituency,  and  now,  on  again 
meeting  The  O'Gorman  Mahon  in  Ireland,  he  was  very 
easily  persuaded  to  stand  in  with  him  for  County  Clare. 
He  wrote  home  to  me  to  know  what  I  thought  of  the 
idea,  saying  that  he  feared  that,  much  as  he  should 
like  it,  the  expenses  would  be  almost  too  heavy  for  us 
to  manage.  I  wrote  back  strongly  encouraging  him  to 
stand,  for  I  knew  it  would  give  him  occupation  he  liked 
and  keep  us  apart  —  and  therefore  good  friends.  Up 
to  this  time  Willie  had  not  met  Mr.  Parnell. 


116 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MR.    PARNELL   AND    THE    IRISH    PARTY    ' 

"Z  loved  those  hapless  ones  —  the  Irish  Poor  — 
All  my  life  long. 
lAttle  did  I  for  them  in  outward  deed. 
And  yet  he  unto  them  of  praise  the  meed 
For  the  stiff  fight  I  urged  'gainst  lust  and  greed: 
I  learnt  it  there." 

Sir  William  Butler. 

"The  introduction  of  the  Arms  Bill  has  interfered  with 
Mr.  Parnell's  further  stay  in  France,  and  it  is  probable 
he  will  be  in  his  place  in  the  House  of  Commons  by 
the  time  this  is  printed." 

This  paragraph  appeared  in  the  Nation  early  in  1880. 
On  the  8th  March  of  that  year,  the  Disraeli  Parliament 
dissolved,  and  on  the  29th  April  Mr.  Gladstone  formed 
his  Ministry. 

In  the  Disraeli  Parliament  Mr.  Parnell  was  the  actual, 
though  Mr.  Shaw  had  been  the  nominal,  leader  of  the 
Irish  Parliamentary  Party  since  the  death  of  Mr.  Isaac 
Butt  in  1879.  Shaw  continued  the  Butt  tradition  of 
moderation  and  conciliation  which  had  made  the  Irish 
Party  an  unconsidered  fraction  in  British  politics.  Par- 
nell represented  the  new  attitude  of  uncompromising 
hostility  to  all  British  parties  and  of  unceasing  opposi- 
tion to  all  their  measures  until  the  grievances  of  Ireland 
were  redressed.  He  carried  the  majority  of  his  Party 
with  him,  and  in  Ireland  he  was  already  the  people's 
hero. 

117 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Born  in  June,  1846,  Parnell  was  still  a  young  man. 
He  came  of  a  fine  race;  he  was  a  member  of  the  same 
family  as  the  famous  poet,  Thomas  Parnell,  as  Lord 
Congleton,  Radical  reformer  and  statesman,  and,  above 
all.  Sir  John  Parnell,  who  sat  and  worked  with  Grattan 
in  Ireland's  Great  Parliament  and  shared  with  him  the 
bitter  fight  against  the  Union.  On  his  mother's  side 
he  was  the  grandson  of  the  famous  Commodore  Charles 
Stewart,  of  the  American  Navy,  whose  bravery  and 
success  in  the  War  of  Independence  are  well  known. 
It  was  natural  that  a  man  of  such  ancestry  should  be- 
come a  champion  of  the  rights  of  his  native  land. 

Yet  though  in  1879  he  was  the  virtual  chief  of  the 
Irish  Party,  eight  years  before  he  was  an  Irish  country 
gentleman,  living  quietly  on  his  estates  at  Avondale 
in  County  Wicklow. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  say  that  his  mother  "planted  his 
hatred  of  England"  in  him,  as  she  so  seldom  saw  him  as 
a  boy.  He  was  sent  to  school  in  England  at  six  years 
old,  and  he  used  to  tell  me  how  his  father  —  who  died 
when  he  (Charles  S.  Parnell)  was  twelve  years  old  — 
would  send  for  him  to  come  to  Ireland  to  see  him.  His 
mother,  Mrs.  Delia  Parnell,  lived  chiefly  in  America, 
going  over  to  Avondale  that  her  children  might  be  born 
in  Ireland,  and  returning  as  soon  as  possible  to  America. 
After  her  husband's  death  she  only  visited  the  place 
occasionally,  and  altogether  saw  very  little  of  her  son 
Charles.  He  often  told  me  how  well  he  remembered 
being  sent  for  in  his  father's  last  illness  to  go  to  him 
at  Dublin,  and  the  last  journey  with  his  dying  father 
back  to  Avondale.  His  father  had  made  him  his  heir 
and  a  ward  of  Court. 

%In  reality  Parnell's  hatred  of  England  arose  when  he 
began  to  study  the  records  of  England's  misgovernment 

118 


MR.  PARNELL  AND  THE  IRISH  PARTY 

in  Ireland,  and  of  the  barbarities  that  were  inflicted 
upon  her  peasantry  in  the  name  of  England's  authority. 

For  years  before  he  left  the  seclusion  of  Avondale 
this  hatred  had  been  growing.  He  followed  the  Fenian 
movement  with  the  liveliest  interest,  and  he  often  ac- 
companied his  sister  Fanny  when  she  took  her  verses 
to  the  ofl[ices  of  the  Irish  World.  The  sufferings  of  the 
Fenian  prisoners,  so  courageously  borne,  stirred  his  blood 
and  awakened  his  indignation.  It  can  be  imagined  with 
what  inward  anger  the  young  man  heard  of  the  detec- 
tive raid  on  his  mother's  house  in  Temple  Street,  Dublin 
—  when  they  found  and  impounded  the  sword  he  was 
privileged  to  wear  as  an  officer  of  the  Wicklow  Militia. 

But  it  was  the  Manchester  affair  of  1867  and  the 
execution  of  Allen,  Larkin  and  O'Brien  which  crystal- 
lised his  hatred  of  England.  From  that  moment  he 
was  only  biding  his  time.  Yet  he  was  slow  to  move, 
and  loath  to  speak  his  mind,  and,  until  he  went  to  Amer- 
ica in  1871,  he  was  better  known  for  his  cricketing  and 
his  autumn  shooting  than  for  his  politics.  When  he 
returned  to  Avondale  with  his  brother  John  in  1872 
the  Ballot  Act  had  just  been  passed,  and  it  was  the 
consciousness  of  the  possibilities  of  the  secret  vote  as 
a  weapon  against  England  that  finally  persuaded  him 
to  be  a  politician. 

But,  though  he  joined  the  newly  formed  Home  Rule 
League,  it  was  not  until  1874  that  he  stood  for  Parlia- 
ment in  Dublin  County.  He  came  out  at  the  bottom 
of  the  poll.  The  election  cost  him  £2,000;  the  £300 
which  he  had  received  from  the  Home  Rule  League  he 
handed  back  to  them.  In  April,  1875,  he  stood  for 
Meath  and  was  placed  at  the  top  of  the  poll. 

When  he  entered  Parliament  the  Irish  Party,  as  I 
have  said,  was  of  little  account.     The  case  for  Ireland 

119 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

was  argued  by  Isaac  Butt  with  fine  reasonableness  and 
forensic  skill,  but  it  produced  absolutely  no  effect.  The 
English  parties  smiled  and  patted  the  Irish  indulgently 
on  the  head.  In  Ireland  all  the  more  resolute  and  en- 
thusiastic  spirits  had  an  utter  contempt  for  their  Par- 
liamentary representatives;  from  the  machine  nothing 
was  to  be  hoped.  It  was  the  mission  of  Parnell  to 
change  all  that,  to  unite  all  the  warring  elements  of  the 
Nationalist  movements  into  one  force  to  be  hurled  against 
England. 

But  still  he  waited  and  watched  —  learning  the  rules 
of  the  House,  studying  the  strength  and  weaknesses  of 
the  machine  he  was  to  use  and  to  attack.  He  found  it 
more  instructive  to  watch  Biggar  than  Butt,  for  Biggar 
was  employing  those  methods  of  obstruction  which 
Parnell  afterwards  used  with  such  perfect  skill.  From 
June,  1876,  he  took  a  hand  in  affairs.  Side  by  side 
with  Biggar,  he  began  his  relentless  obstruction  of  Par- 
hamentary  business  until  the  demands  of  Ireland  should 
be  considered.  Already  in  1877  he  was  fighting  Butt 
for  the  direction  of  the  Irish  FsLrty.  On  September 
1st  of  that  year  Parnell  became  president  of  the  Home 
Rule  Confederation  of  Great  Britain  in  place  of  Butt, 
and  the  victory  was  really  won.  Thenceforward  Parnell 
was  the  true  leader  of  the  Irish  movement  inside  Par- 
liament and  out  of  it.  He  attracted  the  support  of 
Fenians  by  his  uncompromising  tactics  and  his  fearless 
utterances,  and  when  the  New  Departure  was  proclaimed 
by  Michael  Davitt  (just  out  of  prison)  and  John  Devoy, 
and  the  Land  League  was  formed  in  1879,  Parnell  was 
elected  president. 

The  objects  of  the  League  were  "best  to  be  attained 
by  defending  those  who  may  be  threatened  with  evic- 
tion for  refusing  to  pay  unjust  rents;  and  by  obtain- 

120 


MR.  PARNELL  AND  THE  IRISH  PARTY 

ing  such  reforms  in  the  laws  relating  to  land  as  will 
enable  every  tenant  to  become  the  owner  of  his  hold- 
ing by  paying  a  fair  rent  for  a  limited  number  of  years." 
The  League  was  meant  by  its  founders,  Davitt  and 
Devoy,  to  work  for  the  abolition  of  landlordism  in 
Ireland,  which,  in  turn,  should  pave  the  way  for  separa- 
tion. Though  Parnell  was  himself  working  for  Home 
Rule,  the  League  became  a  tremendous  driving  pov^^er 
behind  his  constitutional  demands. 

For  some  months  Disraeli's  Government  did  nothing, 
while  the  agitation  spread  like  wildfire.  Then  in  No- 
vember three  of  the  leaders  were  arrested,  on  December 
5th  a  fourth  —  and  in  a  few  days  released !  Ireland 
laughed,  and  the  League  grew.  On  December  21st 
Parnell  and  Dillon  sailed  for  New  York  to  appeal  for 
funds  to  save  the  tenant  farmers  and  to  tighten  the 
bond  between  the  new  movement  and  the  revolution- 
ary^ societies  of  America.  His  triumphal  progress  through 
the  States  and  Canada,  his  reception  by  the  Governors 
of  States,  members  of  Congress,  judges  and  other  repre- 
sentative men,  and  finally  his  appearance  before  Con- 
gress to  develop  his  views  on  the  Irish  situation,  are 
well  known.  It  was  on  this  journey  —  at  Toronto  — 
that  he  was  first  hailed  as  the  "Uncrowned  King." 

The  unexpected  news  of  the  dissolution  summoned 
him  home.  In  going  out  Disraeli  tried  to  make  Home 
Rule  the  issue  of  the  election,  but  Lord  Hartington  — 
who  was  then  leading  the  Liberal  Party  —  and  Mr. 
Gladstone  refused  to  take  up  the  challenge.  All  the 
English  parties  were  united  in  hostility  to  Home  Rule. 

But  the  violent  manifesto  of  Disraeli  threw  the  Irish 
voting  strength  in  England  into  the  Liberal  scale.  The 
Liberals  swept  the  country. 

Curiously  enough,   even  in  Ireland  the  issue  of  the 

121 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

election  was  not  Home  Rule.  There  it  was  the  land, 
and  nothing  but  the  land.  For  the  harvest  of  1879  had 
been  the  worst  since  the  great  famine;  evictions  were  in 
full  swing,  and  the  Land  League  had  begun  its  work. 

The  demand  was  for  a  measure  securing  the  "three 
F's":  Fixity  of  tenure,  fair  rents  determined  by  a  legal 
tribunal,  and  free  sale  of  the  tenant's  interest.  But 
in  many  constituencies  the  demand  was  for  the  extinc- 
tion of  landlordism. 

Parnell  carried  the  election  on  his  back.  He  was 
fighting  not  only  the  Liberals  and  the  Tories,  but  the 
moderate  Home  Rule  followers  of  Mr.  Shaw.  His  energy 
seemed  inexhaustible;  from  one  end  of  Ireland  to  the 
other  he  organised  the  campaign,  and  addressed  meet- 
ings. The  result  was  a  triumph  for  his  policy  and  for  the 
Land  League.  Of  the  61  Home  Rulers  elected,  39  were 
Parnellites. 


122 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE    FIRST    MEETING    WITH    MR.    PARNELL 

"One  evening  he  asked  the  miller  tvhere  the  river  xoent. 

'  It  goes  down  the  valley,'  answered  he,  'and  turns  a  power  of  mills.' " 

R.  L.  Stevenson. 

Willie  and  The  O'Gorman  Mahon  had  been  returned 
at  the  General  Election,  and  many  and  varied  were 
the  stories  The  O'Gorman  Mahon  told  me  subsequently 
of  their  amusing  experiences.  How  they  kissed  nearly 
every  girl  in  Clare  and  drank  with  every  man  —  and 
poor  Willie  loathed  Irish  whisky  —  how  Willie's  innate 
fastidiousness  in  dress  brought  gloom  into  the  eyes  of  the 
peasantry  till  his  unfeigned  admiration  of  their  babies 
and  live-stock,  scrambling  together  about  the  cabins, 
"lifted  a  smile  to  the  lip." 

The  O'Gorman  Mahon  was  then  a  tall,  handsome 
old  man  with  a  perfect  snowstorm  of  white  hair,  and 
eyes  as  merry  and  blue  as  those  of  a  boy.  He  could 
look  as  fierce  as  an  old  eagle  on  occasion,  however,  and 
had  fought,  in  his  day,  more  duels  than  he  could  re- 
member.    A  fine  specimen  of  the  old  type  of  Irishman. 

When  he  came  down  to  Eltham  to  see  us,  Willie  and 
I  took  him  over  to  Greenwich  and  gave  him  a  fish  din- 
ner. We  sat  late  into  the  night  talking  of  Irish  affairs, 
and  The  O'Gorman  Mahon  said  to  me,  "If  you  meet 
Parnell,  Mrs.  O'Shea,  be  good  to  him.  His  begging 
expedition  to  America  has  about  finished  him,  and  I 
don't  believe  he'll  last  the  session  out." 

123 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

He  went  on  to  speak  of  Mr.  Parnell;  how  aloof  and 
reserved  he  was,  and  how  he  received  any  inquiries  as 
to  his  obviously  bad  health  with  a  freezing  hostility 
that  gave  the  inquirers  a  ruffled  sense  of  tactlessness. 

Willie  broke  in  to  say  that  he  and  I  were  going  to 
give  some  political  dinners  in  London  and  would  ask 
Parnell,  though  he  was  sure  he  would  not  come.  The 
O'Gorman  Mahon  paid  some  idle  compliment,  but  I 
was  not  interested  particularly  in  their  stories  of  Par- 
nell, though  I  mentally  decided  that  if  I  gave  any  din- 
ners to  the  Irish  Party  for  Willie  I  would  make  a  point 
of  getting  Parnell. 

I  was  growing  very  tired,  and  was  longing  for  our 
guest  to  go  and  catch  his  train  for  London,  but  he  made 
no  move,  and  Willie  seemed  to  be  lapsing  into  a  gloomy 
trance  when  The  O'Gorman  Mahon  electrified  me  by 
saying,  "Now,  Willie,  'twill  slip  easier  into  her  ear  from 
you! 

Willie  roused  himself  and  said,  "You  see,  Katie, 
we     .     .     . 

Then  The  O'Gorman  Mahon  took  up  the  tale,  and 
the  gist  of  it  was  that  nearly  all  the  expenses  of  the 
election  had  fallen  to  poor  W^ilhe's  share,  that  The 
O'Gorman  Mahon  was  almost  penniless  —  this  announced 
by  him  with  the  grand  air  of  a  conqueror  —  and  that 
Willie,  with  more  zeal  than  discretion,  had  guaranteed 
the  whole  of  the  expenses  for  both,  and  where  the  amount, 
which  they  found  totalled  to  about  £2,000,  was  to 
come  from  they  did  not  know. 

Wilhe  and  The  O'Gorman  Mahon  looked  at  me  like 
disconsolate  but  hopeful  schoolboys,  and  I  cheered 
them  up  by  promising  to  do  what  I  could  to  get  my 
aunt  to  help,  though  I  really  did  not  in  the  least  think 
she  would  do  so.     However,  their  sanguine  spirits  rose 

124 


THE  FIRST  MEETING  WITH  MR.  PARNELL 

once  more,  and  at  last  The  O' Gorman  Mahon  made 
the  dash  for  his  train  that  I  was  hoping  for,  first  seizing 
my  hands  and  kissing  me  on  the  cheek,  and  telhng 
WiUie  that  I  was  much  too  good  for  him.  WilHe  did 
not  hke  these  pleasantries  as  a  rule,  but  The  O'Gorman 
Mahon  had  such  a  courtly  way  with  him  that  he  could 
only  smile  assent. 

On  the  26th  of  April  the  members  of  the  Irish  Party 
met  in  Dublin  to  elect  a  chairman,  and  the  meeting 
was  adjourned  without  coming  to  a  decision,  but  in 
May  Mr.  Parnell  was  chosen  as  leader  of  the  Party. 
Willie  voted  for  him,  with  twenty -two  others,  and  tele- 
graphed to  me  to  say  that  he  had  done  so,  but  feared 
that  Mr.  Parnell  might  be  too  "advanced."  The  fact 
was  that  many  people  admired  steady-going  William 
Shaw,  the  then  chairman,  as  being  very  "safe,"  and 
doubted  whither  their  allegiance  to  Mr.  Parnell  would 
lead  them.  Years  after,  when  their  politics  had  di- 
verged, Mr.  Parnell  said:  "I  was  right  when  I  said  in 
'80,  as  Willie  got  up  on  that  platform  at  Ennis,  dressed 
to  kill,  that  he  was  just  the  man  we  did  not  want  in 
the  Party." 

After  the  meeting  of  Parliament  Willie  was  insistent 
that  I  should  give  some  dinner  parties  in  London,  and, 
as  his  rooms  were  too  small  for  this  purpose,  we  ar- 
ranged to  have  a  couple  of  private  rooms  at  Thomas's 
Hotel  —  my  old  haunt  in  Berkley  Square.  There  were 
no  ladies'  clubs  in  those  days,  but  this  hotel  served  me 
for  many  years  as  well  as  such  a  club  could  have  done. 

W^e  gave  several  dinners,  and  to  each  of  them  I  asked 
Mr.  Parnell.  Among  the  first  to  come  were  Mr.  Justin 
McCarthy  (the  elder),  Colonel  Colthurst,  Richard  Power, 
Colonel  Nolan,  and  several  others;  but  —  in  spite  of 
his  acceptance  of  the  invitation  —  Mr.  Parnell  did  not 

125 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

come.  Someone  alluded  to  the  "vacant  chair,"  and 
laughingly  defied  me  to  fill  it;  the  rest  of  our  guests 
took  up  the  tale  and  vied  with  each  other  in  tales  of 
the  inaccessibihty  of  Parnell,  of  how  he  ignored  even 
the  invitations  of  the  most  important  political  hostesses 
in  London,  and  of  his  dislike  of  all  social  intercourse  — 
though  he  had  mixed  freely  in  society  in  America  and 
Paris  before  he  became  a  politician  for  the  sake  of  the 
Irish  poor.  I  then  became  determined  that  I  would 
get  Parnell  to  come,  and  said,  amid  laughter  and  ap- 
plause: "The  uncrowned  King  of  Ireland  shall  sit  in 
that  chair  at  the  next  dinner  I  give!" 

One  bright  sunny  day  when  the  House  was  sitting 
I  drove,  accompanied  by  my  sister,  Mrs.  Steele  (who 
had  a  house  in  Buckingham  Gate),  to  the  House  of 
Commons  and  sent  in  a  card  asking  Mr.  Parnell  to 
come  out  and  speak  to  us  in  Palace  Yard. 

He  came  out,  a  tall,  gaunt  figure,  thin  and  deadly 
pale.  He  looked  straight  at  me  smiling,  and  his  curi- 
ously burning  eyes  looked  into  mine  with  a  wonder- 
ing intentness  that  threw  into  my  brain  the  sudden 
thought:   "This   man   is  wonderful  —  and   different." 

I  asked  him  why  he  had  not  answered  my  last  in- 
vitation to  dinner,  and  if  nothing  would  induce  him 
to  come.  He  answered  that  he  had  not  opened  his 
letters  for  days,  but  if  I  would  let  him,  he  would  come 
to  dinner  directly  he  returned  from  Paris,  where  he  had 
to  go  for  his  sister's  wedding. 

In  leaning  forward  in  the  cab  to  say  good-bye  a  rose 
I  was  wearing  in  my  bodice  fell  out  on  to  my  skirt. 
He  picked  it  up  and,  touching  it  hghtly  with  his  lips, 
placed  it  in  his  button-hole. 

This  rose  I  found  long  years  afterwards  done  up  in 
an  envelope,  with  my  name  and  the  date,  among  his 

126 


THE  FIRST  MEETING  WITH  MR.  PARNELL 

most  private  papers,  and  when  he  died  I  laid  it  upon 
his  heart. 

This  is  the  first  letter  I  had  from  Mr.  Parnell:  — 

London, 
July  17,  1880. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  We  have  all  been  in  such  a  "dis- 
turbed" condition  lately  that  I  have  been  quite  unable  to 
wander  further  from  here  than  a  radius  of  about  one  hundred 
"paces  allons.  And  this  notwithstanding  the  powerful  attrac- 
tions which  have  been  tending  to  seduce  me  from  my  duty 
towards  my  country  in  the  direction  of  Thomas's  Hotel. 

I  am  going  over  to  Paris  on  Monday  evening  or  Tuesday 
morning  to  attend  my  sister's  wedding,  and  on  my  return  will 
write  you  again  and  ask  for  an  opportunity  of  seeing  you.  — 
Yours  very  truly,  Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

On  his  return  from  Paris  Mr.  Parnell  wrote  to  me, 
and  again  we  asked  him  to  dinner,  letting  him  name 
his  own  date.  AVe  thought  he  would  like  a  quiet  din- 
ner, and  invited  only  my  sister,  Mrs.  Steele,  my  nephew. 
Sir  Matthew  Wood,  Mr.  Justin  McCarthy,  and  a  couple 
of  others  whose  names  I  forget.  On  receiving  his  reply 
accepting  the  invitation  for  the  following  Friday,  we 
engaged  a  box  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre  —  where  Marion 
Hood  was  acting  (for  whom  I  had  a  great  admiration) 
—  as  we  thought  it  w^ould  be  a  relief  to  the  "Leader" 
to  get  away  from  politics  for  once. 

On  the  day  of  the  dinner  I  got  this  note :  — 

House  of  Commons, 

Friday. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  dined  with  the  Blakes  on  Wed- 
nesday, and  by  the  time  dinner  was  over  it  was  too  late  to  go 
to  the  meeting  —  the  Post  Office  is  all  right  here. 

I  cannot  imagine  who  originated  the  paragraph.     I  have 

127 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

certainly  made  no  arrangements  up  to  the  present  to  go  either 
to  Ireland  or  America  or  announced  any  intention  to  anybody. 
—  Yours,  Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

He  arrived  late,  but  apologetic,  and  was  looking  pain- 
fully ill  and  white,  the  only  life-light  in  his  face  being 
given  by  the  fathomless  eyes  of  rich  brown,  varying  to 
the  brilliance  of  flame.  The  depth  of  expression  and  sud- 
den fire  of  his  eyes  held  me  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

We  had  a  pleasant  dinner,  talking  of  small  nothings, 
and,  avoiding  the  controversial  subject  of  politics,  Mr. 
Parnell  directed  most  of  his  conversation  to  my  sister 
during  dinner.  She  could  talk  brilliantly,  and  her  quick, 
light  handling  of  each  subject  as  it  came  up  kept  him 
interested  and  amused.  I  was  really  anxious  that  he 
should  have  an  agreeable  evening,  and  my  relief  was 
great  when  he  said  that  he  was  glad  to  go  to  the  theatre 
with  us,  as  the  change  of  thought  it  gave  was  a  good 
rest  for  him. 

On  arrival  at  the  theatre  he  and  I  seemed  to  fall 
naturally  into  our  places  in  the  dark  corner  of  the  box 
facing  the  stage  and  screened  from  the  sight  of  the 
audience,  while  my  sister  and  the  others  sat  in  front. 

After  we  had  settled  in  our  seats  Mr.  Parnell  began 
to  talk  to  me.  I  had  a  feeling  of  complete  sympathy 
and  companionship  with  him,  as  though  I  had  always 
known  this  strange,  unusual  man  with  the  thin  face  and 
pinched  nostrils,  who  sat  by  my  side  staring  with  that 
curious  intent  gaze  at  the  stage,  and  telling  me  in  a 
low  monotone  of  his  American  tour  and  of  his  broken 
health. 

Then,  turning  more  to  me,  he  paused;  and,  as  the 
light  from  the  stage  caught  his  eyes,  they  seemed  like 
sudden  flames.     I  leaned  a  little  towards  him,  still  with 

128 


THE  FIRST  MEETING  WITH  MR.  PARNELL 

that  odd  feeling  of  his  having  always  been  there  by 
my  side;  and  his  eyes  smiled  into  mine  as  he  broke 
off  his  theme  and  began  to  tell  me  of  how  he  had  met 
once  more  in  America  a  lady  to  whom  he  had  been  prac- 
tically engaged  some  few  years  before. 

Her  father  would  not  dower  her  to  go  to  Ireland, 
and  Parnell  would  not  think  of  giving  up  the  Irish 
cause  and  settling  in  America.  The  engagement  there- 
fore hung  fire;  but  on  this  last  visit  to  America  he  had 
sought  her  out  and  found  himself  cold  and  disillusioned. 

She  was  a  very  pretty  girl,  he  said,  with  golden  hair, 
small  features  and  blue  eyes.  One  evening,  on  this 
last  visit,  he  went  to  a  ball  with  her,  and,  as  she  was 
going  up  the  stairs,  she  pressed  into  his  hand  a  paper 
on  which  was  written  the  following  verse: 

"Unless  you  can  muse  in  a  crowd  all  day 
On  the  absent  face  that  fixed  you, 

Unless  you  can  dream  that  his  faith  is  fast 
Through  behoving  and  unbehoving. 

Unless  you  can  die  when  the  dream  is  past. 
Oh,  never  call  it  loving." 

He  asked  me  who  had  written  the  lines,  and  I  answered 
that  it  sounded  like  one  of  the  Brownings  (it  is  E.  B. 
Browning's),  and  he  said  simply:  "Well,  I  could  not 
do  all  that,  so  I  went  home." 

I  suggested  that  perhaps  the  lady  had  suffered  in 
his  desertion,  but  he  said  that  he  had  seen  her,  that 
same   evening,    suddenly   much   attracted   by   a   young 

advocate  named  A ,  who  had  just  entered  the  room, 

and  decided  in  his  own  mind  that  his  vacillation  had 
lost  him  the  young  lady.  The  strenuous  work  he  had 
then  put  his  whole  heart  into  had  driven  out  all  traces 
of  regret. 

129 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

After  this  dinner  party  I  met  him  frequently  in  the 
Ladies'  Gallery  of  the  House.  I  did  not  tell  him  when 
I  was  going;  but,  whenever  I  went,  he  came  up  for  a 
few  minutes;  and,  if  the  Wednesday  sittings  were  not 
very  important  or  required  his  presence,  he  would  ask 
me  to  drive  with  him.  We  drove  many  miles  this 
way  in  a  hansom  cab  out  into  the  country,  to  the  river 
at  Mortlake,  or  elsewhere.  We  chiefly  discussed  Wil- 
lie's chances  of  being  returned  again  for  Clare,  in  case 
another  election  was  sprung  upon  us.  Both  Willie  and 
I  were  very  anxious  to  secure  Mr.  Parnell's  promise 
about  this,  as  The  O'Gorman  Mahon  was  old,  and  we 
were  desirous  of  making  Willie's  seat  in  Parliament 
secure. 

While  he  sat  by  my  side  in  the  meadows  by  the  river 
he  promised  he  would  do  his  best  to  keep  Willie  in 
Parliament,  and  to  secure  County  Clare  for  him  should 
the  occasion  arise.  Thus  we  would  sit  there  through 
the  summer  afternoon,  watching  the  gay  traffic  on  the 
river,  in  talk,  or  in  the  silence  of  tried  friendship,  till 
the  growing  shadows  warned  us  that  it  was  time  to 
drive  back  to  London. 

Soon  after  my  first  meeting  with  Mr.  Parnell,  my 
sister,  Mrs.  Steele,  invited  Mr.  Parnell,  Mr.  McCarthy 
and  myself  to  luncheon.  We  had  a  very  pleasant  little 
party  at  her  house.  During  lunch  Mr.  Parnell  told 
us  he  was  going  to  his  place  in  Ireland  for  some  shoot- 
ing, and  Mr.  McCarthy  and  my  sister  chaffed  him  for 
leaving  us  for  the  lesser  game  of  partridge  shooting, 
but  he  observed  gravely,  "I  have  the  partridges  there, 
and  here  I  cannot  always  have  your  society." 

I  had  to  leave  early,  as  I  was  anxious  to  return  to 
see  my  aunt;  and  Mr.  Parnell  said  he  would  accom- 
pany  me   to   the   station.     Yvlien   we   got   to   Charing 

130 


MR.    PARNELL    IN     1880 

A  portrait  given  by  him  to  Mrs.  O'Shea  soon  after  their  first  mec-ting 
Photographed  by  Mr.  Parnell's  nephsw,  Henry  Thomson 


THE  FIRST  MEETING  WITH  MR.  PARNELL 

Cross  the  train  had  already  gone;  and  Mr.  Parnell 
picked  out  a  good  horse  from  the  cab  rank,  saying  it 
would  be  much  pleasanter  to  drive  down  on  such  a 
beautiful  afternoon.  We  did  so,  but  I  would  not  let 
him  stay,  as  I  was  not  sure  what  state  of  confusion 
the  house  might  be  in,  left  in  my  absence  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  children  and  governess.  I  told  him  I  had  to 
hurry  over  the  park  to  my  aunt,  as  really  was  the  case, 
and  he  reluctantly  returned  to  London. 

On  the  next  Wednesday  evening  Mr.  Parnell  was 
to  dine  with  me  at  Thomas's  Hotel.  He  met  me  at 
Cannon  Street  Station  as  the  train  came  in,  and  asked 
me  to  have  some  tea  with  him  at  the  hotel  there  and 
go  on  to  Thomas's  together.  We  went  to  the  Cannon 
Street  Hotel  dining-rooms,  but  on  looking  in  he  saw 
some  of  the  Irish  members  there  and  said  it  would  be 
more  comfortable  for  us  in  his  private  sitting-room.  I 
was  under  the  impression  that  he  lived  at  Keppel  Street, 
but  he  told  me  he  had  just  taken  rooms  in  the  Cannon 
Street  Hotel.  We  had  tea  in  his  sitting-room,  and  he 
talked  politics  to  me  freely  till  I  was  interested  and  at 
ease,  and  then  lapsed  into  one  of  those  long  silences  of 
his  that  I  was  already  beginning  to  know  were  danger- 
ous in  the  complete  sympathy  they  evoked  between  us. 

Presently  I  said,  "Come!  we  shall  be  late!"  and 
he  rose  without  a  word  and  followed  me  downstairs. 
There  were  some  members  of  his  Party  still  standing 
about  in  the  hall,  but,  as  he  always  did  afterwards 
when  I  was  with  him,  he  ignored  them  absolutely  and 
handed  me  into  a  waiting  cab. 

He  and  I  dined  at  Thomas's  Hotel  that  evening,  and 
after  dinner  I  returned  home  to  Eltham.  Mr.  Parnell  left 
for  Ireland  by  the  morning  mail. 

From  Dublin  he  wrote  to  me :  — 

131 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

September  9,  1880. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  Just  a  line  to  say  that  I  have 
arrived  here,  and  go  on  to  Avondale,  Rathdrum,  this  evening, 
where  I  hope  to  hear  from  you  before  very  long. 

I  may  tell  you  also  in  confidence  that  I  don't  feel  quite  so 
content  at  the  prospect  of  ten  days'  absence  from  London 
amongst  the  hills  and  valleys  of  Wicklow  as  I  should  have  done 
some  three  months  since. 

The  cause  is  mysterious,  but  perhaps  you  will  help  me  to 
find  it,  or  her,  on  my  return.  —  Yours  always. 


Chas.  S.  Parnell. 


Then  from  his  home :  — 


Avondale,  Rathdrum, 

September  11,  1880. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  take  the  opportunity  which  a 
few  hours  in  Dublin  gives  me  of  letting  you  know  that  I  am 
still  in  the  land  of  the  living,  notwithstanding  the  real  difficulty 
of  either  living  or  being,  which  every  moment  becomes  more 
evident,  in  the  absence  of  a  certain  kind  and  fair  face. 

Probably  you  will  not  hear  from  me  again  for  a  few  days,  as 
I  am  going  into  the  mountains  for  some  shooting,  removed 
from  post  offices  and  such  like  consolations  for  broken-hearted 
politicians,  but  if,  as  I  hope,  a  letter  from  you  should  reach  me 
even  there,  I  shall  try  and  send  you  an  answer.  —  Yours  very 
sincerely,  Chas.  S.  Parnell. 


132 


CHAPTER  XVI 

EARLY   CORRESPONDENCE 

"Whatever  the  senses  take  or  may  refuse 
The  Mind's  internal  heaven  shall  shed  her  dews 
Of  inspiration  on  the  humblest  lay."  —  Wordsworth. 

Whenever  I  went  to  town,  or  elsewhere,  I  always 
returned  at  night  to  see  that  my  children  were  all  right 
and  to  be  ready  to  go  to  my  aunt  as  usual  every  morning. 
One  day,  on  my  return  from  a  drive  with  my  aunt,  I 
found  that  my  old  nurse  Lucy,  who  still  lived  with  me, 
was  very  ill,  having  had  a  stroke  of  paralysis  while  I 
was  away.  It  affected  her  speech  and  sight  as  well  as 
the  whole  of  one  side,  and  I  was  very  unhappy  lest  the 
maid  whom  I  kept  expressly  to  wait  on  her  had  hurt 
her  in  some  way  —  the  doctor  said  she  must  have  had 
a  shock.  The  dear  old  woman  lay  still,  continuously 
feeling  my  fingers  for  my  rings  that  she  might  know 
that  I  was  with  her,  and  evidently  she  wished  to  tell 
me  something  which  her  poor  lips  could  not  form.  She 
lingered  only  a  couple  of  days  before  she  died  and  left 
a  great  void  in  my  heart.  My  children  missed  their 
admiring  old  confidante  sadly.  She  had  always  been 
devoted  to  me  as  the  youngest  of  her  "own  babies," 
as  she  called  my  mother's  children,  and  had  shared  in 
all  my  fortunes  and  misfortunes  since  I  returned  from 
Spain.  She  was  always  very  proud,  and  so  fearful  of 
becoming  a  burden  to  anyone,  that  she  rented  a  room 
in  her  sister's  house  so  that  she  should  feel  independent. 

133 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

So  often,  when  "times  were  bad"  with  us,  she  would 
press  some  of  her  savings  into  my  hand  and  say  that 
"The  Captain  must  want  a  httle  change,  Dearie,  going 
about  as  he  does!" 

In  her  earher  hfe  she  had  had  her  romance,  and  had 
spent  some  years  in  saving  up  to  marry  her  "sweet- 
heart," as  she  called  him;  but  shortly  before  the  wed- 
ding her  father's  business  failed,  and  she  immediately 
gave  him  all  her  little  nest-egg,  with  the  result  that 
her  lover  refused  to  marry  her.  So  then,  at  the  great 
age  of  ninety,  after  her  blameless  life  had  been  passed 
since  the  age  of  sixteen  in  unselfish  devotion  to  us  all, 
we  laid  her  to  rest  by  the  side  of  my  father  and  mother 
at  Cressing,  Willie  taking  her  down  to  Essex  and  at- 
tending the  funeral. 

As  she  lay  dying  I  got  this  note  from  Mr.  Parnell:  — 

Dublin, 
September  22,  1880. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  cannot  keep  myself  away  from 
you  any  longer,  so  shall  leave  to-night  for  London. 

Please  wire  me  to  16  Keppel  Street,  Russell  Square,  if  I 
may  hope  to  see  you  to-morrow  and  where,  after  4  p.  m.  — 
Yours  always,  C.  S.  P. 

Owing  to  the  piteous  clinging  to  my  fingers  of  my 
old  Lucy  I  was  unable  to  go  to  London  even  for  an 
hour  to  meet  Mr.  Parnell,  so  I  telegraphed  to  that  effect, 
and  received  the  following  letter :  — 

EusTON  Station, 
Friday  evening,  September  24,    1880. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  On  arriving  at  Keppel  Street 
yesterday  I  found  that  your  wire  had  just  arrived,  and  that 
the  boy  refused  to  leave  it  as  I  was  not  stopping  there.     Going 

134 


LUCY    GOLDSMITH 

Nurse  to  the  thirteen  children  of  Sir  John  Page  Wood  and  Lady  Wood 
She  afterwards  hvsd  until  1880  with  Mrs.  O'Shea 


EARLY  CORRESPONDENCE 

at  once  to  the  district  postal  office  I  asked  for  and  received 
the  wire,  and  to-day  went  to  London  Bridge  Station  at  12.15. 
The  train  from  Eltham  had  just  left,  so  I  came  on  to  Charing 
Cross  and  sent  a  note  by  messenger  to  you  at  Thomas's  with 
directions  to  bring  it  back  if  you  were  not  there,  which  turned 
out  to  be  the  case.  I  am  very  much  troubled  at  not  having 
seen  you,  especially  as  I  must  return  to  Ireland  to-night  —  I 
came  on  purpose  for  you,  and  had  no  other  business.  I  think 
it  possible,  on  reflection,  that  the  telegraph  people  may  have 
wired  you  that  they  were  unable  to  deliver  your  message,  and, 
if  so,  must  reproach  myself  for  not  having  written  you  last 
night.  —  Your  very  disappointed  C.  S.  P. 

From  Dublin  he  wrote  me: 

Saturday  morning,  September  25,  1880. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  Li  my  hurried  note  to  you  last 
night  I  had  not  time  to  sympathise  with  you  in  this  trouble- 
some time  you  have  been  going  through  recently;  how  I  wish 
it  might  have  been  possible  for  me  to  have  seen  you  even  for 
a  few  minutes  to  tell  you  how  very  much  I  feel  any  trouble 
which  comes  to  you. 

I  am  just  starting  for  New  Ross,  where  there  is  a  meeting 
to-morrow. 

If  you  can  spare  time  to  write  me  to  Avondale,  the  letters 
will  reach  me  in  due  course.  —  Yours  always,  C.  S.  P. 

September   29,    1880. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  have  received  your  wire,  but 
not  the  letter  which  you  say  you  were  writing  me  to  Dublin 
for  Monday. 

I  suppose  then  you  may  have  sent  it  to  Rathdrum  instead, 
whither  I  am  going  this  evening,  and  that  I  may  soon  have  the 
happiness  of  reading  a  few  words  written  by  you. 

I  am  due  at  Cork  on  Sunday,  after  which  I  propose  to  visit 
London  again,  and  renew  my  attempt  to  gain  a  glimpse  of 
you.  Shall  probably  arrive  there  on  Tuesday  if  I  hear  from 
you  in  the  meanwhile  that  you  will  see  me. 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

On  Friday  evening  I  shall  be  at  Morrison's  on  my  way 
to  Kilkenny  for  Saturday,  and  shall  be  intensely  delighted  to 
have  a  wire  from  you  to  meet  me  there.  —  Yours  always, 

Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

Meanwhile  Willie  was  in  communication  with  Mr. 
Gladstone,  Mr.  Tintern  (one  of  the  Liberal  agents)  and 
others,  in  reference  to  a  meeting  held  by  him. 

Mr.  Tintern  wrote  from  Tenby  commenting  with  satis- 
faction on  the  report  of  Willie's  successful  meeting,  on 
Willie's  kind  mention  of  the  Government,  and  on  the 
good  the  meeting  must  do  by  promoting  orderly  progress 
and  better  feeling  between  one  class  and  another.  But 
he  expressed  surprise  that  Willie  should  think  the  Govern- 
ment had  not  treated  him  and  West  Clare  w^ell.  He  at 
least  .  .  .  !  Mr.  Gladstone  wrote  from  Downing 
Street  on  the  21st  September  about  the  meeting  in  much 
the  same  terms.  He  expressed  himself  as  gratified  to  think 
that  the  important  local  proceedings  with  regard  to  the 
land  question  showed  the  union  of  people  and  pastors 
against  the  extremists. 

Life  at  Eltham  went  on  in  the  same  routine.  My 
aunt  was  well,  and  would  sit  for  long  hours  at  the  south 
door  of  her  house  —  looking  away  up  "King  John's 
Chase"  —  the  ruins  of  King  John's  Palace  were  at  Elt- 
ham, and  my  aunt's  park  and  grounds  were  part  of 
the  ancient  Royal  demesne.  In  these  summer  evenings 
she  loved  to  sit  at  the  top  of  the  broad  flight  of  shallow 
steps  with  me,  and  tell  my  little  girls  stories  of  her  life 
of  long  ago.  In  her  day  all  girls,  big  and  little,  wore 
low-necked  frocks  with  short  sleeves,  and  she  was  always 
distressed  that  her  "butterflies,"  as  she  called  my  two 
little  girls,  had  long  black  legs  instead  of  the  white  stock- 
ings and  sandals  of  her  youth. 

She  would  repeat  poetry  to  them  by  the  hour,  if  I 

136 


EARLY  CORRESPONDENCE 

could  get  them  to  sit  still  long  enough;  and  I  sat  by 
her  side  on  these  waning  summer  days,  hearing  her 
voice,  but  unheeding,  dreaming  in  silence,  as  she  talked 
to  the  children. 

Sometimes  her  favourite  Dr.  Bader  would  bring  his 
zither  down  from  London  and  play  to  us;  or  my  aunt 
and  I  would  sit  in  the  great  tapestry  room  with  all  of 
the  seven  windows  open,  listening  to  the  song  of  the 
ffiolian  harp  as  the  soft  breeze  touched  its  strings  and 
died  away  in  harmony  through  the  evening  stillness. 
And  my  aunt  would  doze  in  her  chair  while  I  dropped 
the  book  I  had  been  reading  to  her  and  drifted  into 
unknown  harmonies  and  colour  of  life;  waiting  in  the 
stillness  of  the  summer  evening  for  the  meaning  of  that 
intent  considering  gaze,  with  the  thousand  fires  behind 
it,  that  was  always  subconsciously  present  with  me  now. 

Sometimes,  too,  my  aunt  would  sing  in  her  soft, 
gentle  old  voice  the  songs  of  her  youth,  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  her  guitar.  "We  met,  'twas  in  a  crowd," 
was  a  favourite  old  song  of  hers,  half  forgotten  since 
she  used  to  sing  it  to  the  music  of  her  spinet  seventy 
years  before,  but  Dr.  Bader  found  the  words  in  an 
old  book,  and  the  dear  old  lady  crooned  it  sentimen- 
tally to  me  as  we  sat  waiting  for  the  hooting  of  the  owls 
which  signalled  to  her  maid  the  time  for  shutting  her 
lady's  windows. 

And  I  was  conscious  of  sudden  gusts  of  unrest  and 
revolt  against  these  leisured,  peaceful  days  where  the 
chiming  of  the  great  clock  in  the  hall  was  the  only  indi- 
cation of  the  flight  of  time,  and  the  outside  world  of 
another  age  called  to  me  with  the  manifold  interests 
into  which  I  had  been  so  suddenly  plunged  with  the 
power  to  help  in  the  making  and  marring  of  a  destiny. 

137 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AT   ELTHAM 

"But  then  —  /  supposed  you  to  be  but  a  fellow  guest?"  "Ah,  no,"  he 
answered  me  in  that  cold  unshaken  voice,  "I  have  but  come  home."  —  (The 
Bagman.)  —  Honoka  Shee. 

In  the  autumn  of  1880  Mr.  Parnell  came  to  stay  with 
us  at  Eltham,  only  going  to  DubHn  as  occasion  required. 
WiUie  had  invited  him  to  come,  and  I  got  in  some  flowers 
in  pots  and  palms  to  make  my  drawing-room  look  pretty 
for  him. 

Mr.  Parnell,  who  w^as  in  very  bad  health  at  that 
time,  a  few  days  later  complained  of  sore  throat,  and 
looked,  as  I  thought,  mournfully  at  my  indoor  garden, 
which  I  industriously  watered  every  day.  It  then 
dawned  upon  me  that  he  was  accusing  this  of  giving 
him  sore  throat,  and  I  taxed  him  with  it.  He  evidently 
feared  to  vex  me,  but  admitted  that  he  did  think  it 
was  so,  and  "wouldn't  it  do  if  they  were  not  watered 
so  often  .^"  He  was  childishly  touched  when  I  at  once 
had  them  all  removed,  and  he  sank  happily  on  to  the 
sofa,  saying  that  "plants  were  such  damp  things!" 

His  throat  became  no  better,  and  he  looked  so  terri- 
bly ill  when  —  as  he  often  did  now  —  he  fell  asleep 
from  sheer  weakness  on  the  sofa  before  the  fire,  that 
I  became  very  uneasy  about  him.  Once,  on  awaking 
from  one  of  these  sleeps  of  exhaustion,  he  told  me  ab- 
ruptly that  he  believed  it  was  the  green  in  the  carpet 
that  gave  him  sore  throat.     There  and  then  we  cut  a 

138 


AT  ELTHAM 

bit  out,  and  sent  it  to  London  to  be  analysed,  but  with- 
out result.     It  was  quite  a  harmless  carpet. 

During  this  time  I  nursed  him  assiduously,  making 
him  take  nourishment  at  regular  intervals,  seeing  that 
these  day-sleeps  of  his  were  not  disturbed,  and  forcing 
him  to  take  fresh  air  in  long  drives  through  the  coun- 
try around  us.  At  length  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  his  strength  gradually  return  sufficiently  to  en- 
able him  to  take  the  exercise  that  finished  the  process 
of  this  building-up,  and  he  became  stronger  than  he 
had  been  for  some  years.  I  do  not  think  anyone  but 
we  who  saw  him  then  at  Eltham,  without  the  mask  of 
reserve  he  always  presented  to  the  outside  world,  had 
any  idea  of  how  near  death's  door  his  exertions  on  be- 
half of  the  famine-stricken  peasants  of  Ireland  had 
brought  him. 

Once  in  that  autumn,  after  he  came  to  us,  I  took 
him  for  a  long  drive  in  an  open  carriage  through  the 
hop-growing  district  of  Kent.  I  had  not  thought  of 
the  fact  that  hundreds  of  the  poorest  of  the  Irish  came 
over  for  the  hop-picking,  and  might  recognise  him. 

After  driving  over  Chislehurst  Common  and  round 
by  the  lovely  Grays,  we  came  right  into  a  crowd  of  the 
Irish  "hoppers"  —  men,  women,  and  children.  In  a 
moment  there  was  a  wild  surge  towards  the  carriage, 
with  cries  of  "The  Chief!  The  Chief!"  and  "Parnell! 
Parnell!  Parnell!"  The  coachman  jerked  the  horses 
on  to  their  haunches  for  fear  of  knocking  down  the 
enthusiastic  men  and  women  who  were  crowding  up 
—  trying  to  kiss  Parnell's  hand,  and  calling  for  "a  few 
words." 

He  lifted  his  cap  with  that  grave,  aloof  smile  of  his, 
and  said  no,  he  was  not  well  enough  to  make  the  small- 
est of  speeches,  but  he  was  glad  to  see  them,  and  would 

139 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

talk  to  them  when  thej^  went  home  to  Ireland.  Then, 
bidding  them  to  "mind  the  little  ones,"  who  were  scram- 
bling about  the  horses'  legs,  to  the  manifest  anxiety  of 
the  coachman,  he  waved  them  away,  and  we  drove  off 
amid  fervent  "God  keep  your  honours!"  and  cheers. 

These  Irish  hop-pickers  were  so  inured  to  privation 
in  their  own  country  that  they  were  very  popular  among 
the  Kentish  hop-farmers,  as  they  did  not  grumble  so 
much  as  did  the  English  pickers  at  the  scandalously 
inefficient  accommodation  provided  for  them. 

Often  before  Parnell  became  really  strong  I  used  to 
watch  for  hours  beside  him  as  he  slept  before  the  draw- 
ing-room fire,  till  I  had  to  rouse  him  in  time  to  go  to 
the  House.  Once,  T\'hen  he  was  moving  restlessly,  I 
heard  him  murmur  in  his  sleep,  as  I  pulled  the  light 
rug  better  over  him:  "Steer  carefully  out  of  the  har- 
bour—  there  are  breakers  ahead." 

He  now  had  all  the  parcels  and  letters  he  received 
sent  on  to  me,  so  that  I  might  open  them  and  give 
him  only  those  it  vras  necessary  for  him  to  deal  with. 
There  were  hundreds  of  letters  to  go  through  every  week, 
though,  as  he  calmlj^  explained,  "If  you  get  tired  with 
them,  leave  them  and  they'll  answer  themselves." 

Often  among  the  parcels  there  were  comestibles,  and 
among  these  every  week  came  a  box  of  eggs  without 
the  name  and  address  of  the  sender.  I  was  glad  to  see 
these  eggs  as  the  winter  came  on  and  with  it  the  usual 
reluctance  of  our  hens  to  provide  us  with  sufficient 
eggs,  but  Mr.  Parnell  would  not  allow  me  to  use  them, 
for  he  said:  "They  might  be  eggs,  but  then  again  they 
might  not,"  and  I  had  to  send  them  a  good  distance 
down  the  garden  and  have  them  broken  to  make  sure 
of  their  genuineness,  and  then  he  would  worry  lest  our 
dogs  should  find  them  and  poison  themselves. 

140 


AT  ELTHAM 

On  his  visits  to  Ireland  he  wrote  to  me  continually :  — 

Dublin, 

Tuesday. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  have  just  a  moment  on  my 
return  from  Ennis  to  catch  the  late  post  and  reply  to  your  wire. 

I  received  your  two  letters  quite  safely,  and  you  may  write 
me  even  nicer  ones  with  perfect  confidence.  I  blame  myself 
very  much  for  not  having  written  you  on  my  way  through 
Dublin  on  Saturday,  as  you  were  evidently  anxious  about 
your  notes,  but  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  as  there  were  only  a 
few  minutes  to  spare. 

I  trust  to  see  you  in  London  on  Tuesday  next.  Is  it  true 
that  Captain  O'Shea  is  in  Paris,  and,  if  so,  when  do  you  expect 
his  return?  ...  I  have  had  no  shooting,  weather  too  wet, 
but  shall  try  to-morrow,  when  you  may  expect  some  heather. 

Dublin, 
Friday  evening,  October  2,  1880. 

Have  just  received  your  wire;  somehow  or  other  some- 
thing from  you  seems  a  necessary  part  of  my  daily  existence, 
and  if  I  have  to  go  a  day  or  two  without  even  a  telegram  it 
seems  dreadful. 

I  want  to  know  how  you  intend  to  excuse  yourself  for  telling 
me  not  to  come  on  purpose  if  I  must  return,  (To  Ireland.) 
Of  course,  I  am  going  on  purpose  to  see  you;  and  it  is  also 
unhappily  true  that  I  cannot  remain  long. 

Shall  cross  Monday  evening,  and  shall  call  at  Morrison's  for 
a  message. 

Please  write  or  wire  me  in  London  to  16  Keppel  Street, 
Russell  Square;,  where  I  shall  call  on  Tuesday. 

Dublin, 
Monday  night,  October  4,  1880. 
Just  arrived.     ...     I  write  3'ou  on  the  only  bit  of  paper 
to  be  found  at  this  late  hour  (a  scrap  taken  from  one  of  your 
own  notes),  to  say  that  I  hope  to  reach  London  to-morrow 

141 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

(Tuesday)  evening  and  to  see  you  on  Wednesday  when  and 
where  you  wish.  Please  write  or  wire  me  to  Keppel  Street. 
This  envelope  will  present  the  appearance  of  having  been 
tampered  with,  but  it  has  not. 

Dublin, 
Tuesday  evening,  October  5, 1880. 
A  frightful  gale  has  been  blowing  all  day  in  Channel  and 
still  continues. 

Under  these  circumstances  shall  postpone  crossing  till  to- 
morrow evening. 

Can  meet  you  in  London  at  9  to-morrow  evening  anywhere 
you  say. 

Dublin, 
Monday  evening,  October  17, 1880. 
My  own  Love,  —  You  cannot  imagine  how  much  you  have 
occupied  my  thoughts  all  day  and  how  very  greatly  the  pros- 
pect of  seeing  you  again  very  soon  comforts  me. 

On  Monday  evening  I  think  it  will  be  necessary  for  me  to 
go  to  Avondale;  afterwards  I  trust,  if  things  are  propitious  on 
your  side,  to  return  to  London  on  Tuesday  or  Wednesday.  — 
Yours  always,  C. 

Avondale,  Rathdrum, 

October  22,  1880. 

I  was  very  much  pleased  to  receive  your  wire  this  morning, 
forwarded  from  Dublin,  that  you  had  received  my  note  of  last 
Saturday.     I  was  beginning  to  fear  that  it  had  gone  wrong. 

After  I  had  finished  at  Roscommon  and  received  your 
message  in  Dublin  on  Monday  I  decided  upon  coming  here 
where  I  have  been  unexpectedly  detained. 

If  all  goes  well  you  will  see  me  in  London  on  Monday  even- 
ing next.  ...  I  send  you  enclosed  one  or  two  poor  sprigs 
of  heather,  which  I  plucked  for  you  three  weeks  ago,  also  my 
best  love,  and  hope  you  will  believe  that  I  always  think  of 
you  as  the  one  dear  object  whose  presence  has  ever  been  a 
great  happiness  to  me. 

142 


AT  ELTHAM 

Meanwhile  the  Government  had  been  temporising  with 
the  land  question.  They  had  brought  in  a  very  feeble 
Compensation  for  Disturbances  Bill  and  they  had  allowed 
it  to  be  further  weakened  by  amendments.  This  Bill 
was  rejected  by  the  House  of  Lords,  with  the  result  that 
the  number  of  evictions  in  Ireland  grew  hourly  greater 
and  the  agitation  of  the  Land  League  against  them;  out- 
rages, too,  were  of  common  occurrence  and  increased  in 
intensity. 

Speaking  at  Ennis  on  September  19th  Mr.  Parnell 
enunciated  the  principle  which  has  since  gone  by  the 
name  of  "The  Boycott." 

"What  are  you  to  do,"  he  asked,  "to  a  tenant  who 
bids  for  a  farm  from  which  another  tenant  has  been 
evicted.'^" 

Several  voices  cried:  "Shoot  him!" 

"I  think,"  went  on  Mr.  Parnell,  "I  heard  some- 
body say  'Shoot  him!'  I  wish  to  point  out  to  you  a 
very  much  better  way  —  a  more  Christian  and  chari- 
table way,  which  will  give  the  lost  man  an  opportunity 
of  repenting.  When  a  man  takes  a  farm  from  which 
another  has  been  unjustly  evicted,  you  must  shun  him 
on  the  roadside  when  you  meet  him;  you  must  shun 
him  in  the  shop;  you  must  shun  him  on  the  fair-green 
and  in  the  market-place,  and  even  in  the  place  of  wor- 
ship, by  leaving  him  alone;  by  putting  him  into  a  sort 
of  moral  Coventry;  by  isolating  him  from  the  rest  of 
the  country,  as  if  he  were  a  leper  of  old  —  you  must 
show  him  your  detestation  of  the  crime  he  has  com- 
mitted." 

Forster,  the  Irish  Secretary,  who  had  some  amount 
of  sympathy  for  the  tenants,  was,  however,  a  Quaker, 
and  the  outrages  horrified  him  more  than  the  evictions. 
Nor,   strangely,   was  he  able  to  connect  the  one  with 

143 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

the  other.  Undoubtedly  the  evictions  almost  ceased, 
but,  said  he,  they  have  ceased  because  of  the  outrages, 
and  the  outrages  were  the  work  of  the  Land  League; 
and  he  pressed  for  the  arrest  of  its  leaders.  This  was 
unwise,  considering  that  it  was  Parnell  who  had  advo- 
cated the  abandonment  of  violence  for  the  moral  sua- 
sion of  the  boycott. 

On  November  3rd  Forster  decided  to  prosecute  the 
leaders  of  the  Land  League,  and  among  them  Parnell, 
Dillon,  Biggar,  Sexton,  and  T.  D.  Sullivan.  Two  days 
later,  in  a  speech  at  Dublin,  Parnell  expressed  his  regret 
that  Forster  was  degenerating  from  a  statesman  to  a 
tool  of  the  landlords.  Biggar  when  he  heard  the  news 
exclaimed,  "Damned  lawyers,  sir,  damned  lawyers! 
Wasting  the  public  money!  Wasting  the  public  money! 
Whigs  damned  rogues!     Forster  damned  fool!" 

Dublin,* 
November  4,  1880. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  take  advantage  of  almost  the 
first  moment  I  have  had  to  myself  since  leaving  you  to  write  a 
few  hasty  lines.  And  first  I  must  again  thank  you  for  all  your 
kindness,  which  made  my  stay  at  Eltham  so  happy  and  pleasant. 

The  thunderbolt,  as  you  will  have  seen,  has  at  last  fallen, 
and  we  are  in  the  midst  of  loyal  preparations  of  a  most  ap- 
palling character. 

I  do  not  suppose  I  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  being  in 
London  again  before  next  Thursday,  but  trust  to  be  more 
fortunate  in  seeing  Captain  O'Shea  then  than  the  last  time.  — 
Yours  very  truly,  Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

Dublin,* 

Saturday. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  hope  to  arrive  in  London  on 
Tuesday  morning,  and  trust  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
*These  letters  were  really  written  from  London. 
144 


AT  ELTHAM 

you  before  I  leave.     Do  you  think  you  shall  be  in  town  on 
Tuesday? 

Kindly  address  16  Keppel  Street.  —  Yours  very  truly, 

Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

On  November  5th  that  year  the  village  was  great 
on  the  subject  of  "gunpowder,  treason,  and  plot,"  and 
during  dinner  that  evening  there  was  such  a  noise  and 
shouting  outside  my  house  that  I  asked  the  maid  who 
was  waiting  what  all  the  excitement  was  about. 

She  answered  breathlessly  that  "the  procession,  ma'am, 
have  got  Miss  Anna  Parnell  in  a  effigy  'longside  of  the 
Pope,  and  was  waiting  outside  for  us  to  see  before  they 
burnt   'em  in  the  village." 

This  electrifying  intelligence  was  received  with  grave 
indifference  by  Mr.  Parnell  till  the  disappointed  maid 
left  the  room;  then  with  a  sudden  bubble  of  laughter 
—  "Poor  Anna!  Her  pride  in  being  burnt,  as  a  menace 
to  England,  would  be  so  drowned  in  horror  at  her  com- 
pany that  it  would  put  the  fire  out!" 

The  cheering  and  hooting  went  on  for  some  time 
outside  the  house,  but,  finding  we  were  not  to  be  drawn, 
the  crowd  at  last  escorted  the  effigies  down  to  the  vil- 
lage and  burnt  them,  though  with  less  amusement  than 
they  had  anticipated. 

Dublin,* 
November  6,  1880. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  You  can  have  very  little  idea  how 
dreadfully  disappointed  I  felt  on  arriving  here  this  evening 
not  to  find  a  letter  from  either  you  or  Captain  O'Shea.     I  send 
this  in  hope  that  it  may  induce  you  to  write  in  reply  to  my 
last  letter  and  telegram,   which  would  appear  not  to  have 
reached  you.  —  Yours  very  sincerely,        Chas.  S.  Parnell. 
*Sent  to  Dublin  to  be  posted. 
145 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

AVONDALE, 

Monday. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  enclose  keys,  which  I  took 
away  by  mistake.     Will  you  kindly  hand  enclosed  letter  to  the 
proper  person*  and  oblige,  —  Yours  very  truly, 

CiiAS.  S.  Parnell. 

Dublin, 
Wednesday  night,  November  11,  "1880. 

My  dearest  Love,  —  I  have  made  all  arrangements  to  be 
in  London  on  Saturday  morning,  and  shall  call  at  Keppel 
Street  for  a  letter  from  you.  It  is  quite  impossible  for  me  to 
tell  you  just  how  very  much  you  have  changed  my  life,  what 
a  small  interest  I  take  in  what  is  going  on  about  me,  and  how 
I  detest  everything  which  has  happened  during  the  last  few 
days  to  keep  me  away  from  you  —  I  think  of  you  always,  and 
you  must  never  believe  there  is  to  be  any  "  fading."  By  the 
way,  you  must  not  send  me  any  more  artificial  letters.  I 
want  as  much  of  your  own  self  as  you  can  transfer  into  written 
words,  or  else  none  at  all.  —  Yours  always,  C.  S.  P. 

A  telegram  goes  to  you,  and  one  to  W.,t  to-morrow,  which 
are  by  no  means  strictly  accurate. 

Dublin, 
December  2,  1880. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  succeeded  in  getting  the  train 
at  Euston  with  just  ten  minutes  to  spare,  and,  arriving  here 
this  morning,  found  that  my  presence  to-day  was  indispens- 
able. 

I  need  not  tell  you  how  much  I  regretted  leaving  Eltham 
so  suddenly;  but  we  cannot  always  do  as  we  wish  in  this 
world. 

My  stay  with  you  has  been  so  pleasant  and  charming  that 
I  was  almost  beginning  to  forget  my  other  duties;   but  Ire- 

*Myself. 
fCaptain  O'Shea. 

146 


AT  ELTHAM 

land  seems  to  have  gotten  on  very  well  without  me  in  the 
interval. 

Trusting  to  see  you  again  next  week  on  my.  way  to  Paris. 
—  Yours  very  sincerely,  Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

I  have  been  exceedingly  anxious  all  day  at  not  receiving 
your  promised  telegram  to  hear  how  you  got  home. 


147 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    LAND    LEAGUE    TRIALS 

The  surest  way  to  prevent  seditions  is  to  take  away  the  matter  of  them. 
—  Lord  Bacon. 

Through  the  whole  of  1880  Parnell  was  determinedly 
organising  the  Land  League  throughout  Ireland,  and 
during  the  winter,  doubtless  encouraged  by  the  enor- 
mous distress  that  prevailed  over  the  whole  country, 
the  force  and  power  of  the  League  grew  with  a  rapidity 
that  surpassed  even  the  expectations  of  Parnell  and 
his  party.  All  through  the  vacation  Parnell  and  his 
followers  held  meetings  in  carefully  calculated  areas  of 
Ireland,  and  in  his  speeches  Parnell  explained  the  mean- 
ing and  wide-reaching  scope  of  the  League's  agitation, 
i.  e.  that  tenant  farmers  were  to  trust  in  their  own  com- 
bination alone  and  "should  give  no  faith  to  the  prom- 
ises of  the  English  Ministers." 

During  the  early  session  that  year  Parnell  had  in- 
troduced a  Bill  called  "Suspension  of  Ejectments  Bill," 
and  this  first  pressed  upon  the  House  the  necessity  of 
dealing  with  the  Irish  landlord  troubles.  Parnell's  party 
urged  this  Bill  with  so  united  a  front  that  Mr.  Glad- 
stone was  obliged  to  consider  the  main  substance  of 
it,  and  he  agreed  to  insert  a  clause  in  the  "Relief  of 
Distress  Bill"  which  would  deal  with  impending  evic- 
tions of  Irish  tenants.  But  the  Speaker  of  the  House 
held  that  the  interpolation  of  such  a  clause  would  not 
be  "in  order,"  and  the  Chief  Secretary  for  Ireland  (Mr. 

148 


THE  LAND  LEAGUE  TRIALS 

Forster)  then,  by  Mr.  Gladstone's  direction,  brought 
in  his  *' Disturbances  Bill,"  which  was  to  all  practical 
purposes  Parnell's  Bill  under  another  name. 

In  the  course  of  the  debate  on  this  Bill  Mr.  Gladstone 
himself  said  that  "in  the  circumstances  of  distress  prev- 
alent in  Ireland  (at  that  time)  a  sentence  of  eviction  is 
the  equivalent  of  a  sentence  of  death."  These  abso- 
lutely true  words  of  Gladstone's  were  used  by  Parnell 
very  many  times  during  his  Land  League  tours  both 
in  speeches  and  privately,  and  many  times  he  added 
—  as  so  often  he  did  to  me  at  home  —  bitter  comment 
upon  the  apathy  of  the  English  Government,  upon  the 
curious  insensibility  of  the  English  lawmakers,  who 
knew  these  things  to  be  true  in  Ireland  and  yet  were 
content  to  go  on  in  their  policy  of  drift,  unless  forced 
into  action  by  those  who  saw  the  appalling  reality  of 
the  distress  among  the  Irish  poor  that  was  so  comfort- 
ably deplored  in  London. 

In  this  connection  Parnell  used  to  say  that  the  fun- 
damental failure  in  the  English  government  of  Ireland 
was:  First,  the  complete  inability  of  the  Ministers  in 
power  to  realise  anything  that  was  not  before  their 
eyes;  and,  secondly,  their  cast-iron  conviction  that  Ire- 
land was  the  one  country  of  the  w^orld  that  was  to  be 
understood  and  governed  by  those  to  whom  she  was 
little  but  a  name. 

In  all  this  time  of  trouble  and  eviction  Parnell  went 
backwards  and  forwards  between  England  (Eltham) 
and  Ireland  as  occasion  required,  and  so  successful  were 
his  efforts  in  spreading  the  agitation  and  linking  up  the 
League  that  the  Government  became  uneasy  as  to  the 
outcome  of  this  new  menace  to  landlordism.  Finally 
Parnell  and  fourteen  of  his  followers  were  put  on  trial, 
charged  with  "conspiracy  to  impoverish  landlords."  Par- 

149 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

nell,  of  course,  went  over  to  Ireland  for  these  "State 
trials,"  but  he  considered  the  whole  thing  such  a  farce, 
in  that  it  was  an  impotent  effort  of  the  Government 
to  intimidate  him,  that  he  could  not  take  it  seriously 
in  any  way.  No  jury  (in  Ireland)  would  agree  to  con- 
vict him  he  was  well  aware,  and  he  attended  the  trials 
chiefly,  he  said,  for  the  "look  of  the  thing,"  and  to  give 
the  support  of  his  presence  to  his  colleagues.  Incident- 
ally he  told  me  on  one  occasion  that  he  had  consider- 
ably hurried  the  jury  when  he  was  very  anxious  to  catch 
a  train  in  time  for  the  night  mail  to  England  (Eltham) 
by  "willing"  them  to  agree  (to  disagree)  without  the 
long  discussion  of  local  politics  with  which  all  self- 
respecting  Irish  jurors  beguile  the  weary  ways  of  law. 
He  observed  that  here,  in  the  question  of  how  far  an 
unconscious  agent  can  be  "  willed  "  into  a  desired  action,  he 
had  discovered  another  and  most  entrancing  study  for  us 
when  we  had  more  time  to  go  into  it  thoroughly. 

Talking  of  the  Land  League's  procedure  against  the 
interests  of  the  Irish  landlords,  I  may,  I  think,  here 
pertinently  remind  those  who  have,  among  so  many 
other  accusations,  brought  against  Parnell  the  charge 
of  self-seeking  in  regard  to  money  matters,  that  Parnell 
himself  was  an  Irish  landlord  and  of  very  considerable 
estates,  and  that  this  land  campaign  (really,  of  course, 
directed  against  eviction)  meant,  to  all  practical  pur- 
poses, the  loss  of  his  rents,  and  that  not  only  for  a  time, 
as  in  other  cases,  but,  with  the  very  generous  interpre- 
tation put  upon  his  wishes  by  the  "Chief's"  tenants, 
for  all  time  —  or  rather  for  all  his  lifetime.  Captain 
O'Shea  also  had  certain  estates  in  Ireland,  and  naturally, 
not  being  in  sympathy  with  Parnell's  policy,  but  being 
at  heart  a  thorough  Whig  and  a  strong  advocate  for 
Mr.  Shaw,  the  ex-leader  of  the  Irish  party,  he  was  furi- 

150 


THE  LAND  LEAGUE  TRIALS 

ous  at  the  League's  anti-landlord  work,  and  refused  to 
have  any  hand  in  it.  He  considered  that  hapless  as  was 
the  plight  of  those  who  had  to  pay  in  rent  the  money 
they  did  not  possess,  that  of  the  landlord  whose  rent 
was  his  all  was  but  little  to  be  preferred. 

During  this  period  the  stories  of  the  evictions  brought 
home  to  me  by  Parnell  himself  made  my  heart  sick, 
and  often  he  sat  far  into  the  night  at  Eltham  speaking 
in  that  low,  broken  monotone,  that  with  him  always 
betokened  intense  feeling  strongly  held  in  check,  of  the 
terrible  cruelty  of  some  of  the  things  done  in  the  name 
of  justice  in  unhappy  Ireland.  How  old  people,  and 
sometimes  those  sick  beyond  recovery,  women  with 
the  children  they  had  borne  but  a  few  hours  before, 
little  children  naked  as  they  had  come  into  the  world, 
all  thrust  out  from  the  little  squalid  cabins  which 
were  all  they  had  for  home,  thrust  out  on  the  roadside 
to  perish,  or  to  live  as  they  could.  I  in  my  English 
ignorance  used  to  say:  "Why  did  they  not  go  into  the 
workhouse  or  to  neighbours?"  and  Parnell  would  look 
wonderingly  at  me  as  he  told  me  that  for  the  most  part 
such  places  were  few  and  far  between  in  Ireland,  and 
"neighbours,"  good  as  they  were  to  each  other,  were 
in  the  same  trouble.  There  were  instances  where  a 
wife  would  beg,  and  loith  none  effect,  that  the  bailiffs 
and  police  should  wait  but  the  little  half-hour  that 
her  dying  husband  drew  his  last  breath;  and  where  a 
husband  carried  his  wife  from  her  bed  to  the  "shelter" 
of  the  rainswept  moor  that  their  child  might  be  born 
out  of  the  sight  of  the  soldiers  deputed  to  guard  the 
officials  who  had  been  sent  to  pull  their  home  about 
their  ears.  And,  remembering  these  and  so  many  other 
tales  of  some  of  the  50,000  evictions  that  he  afterwards 
calculated   had   taken   place   in   Ireland,   I   have   never 

151 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

wondered  at  the  implacable  hatred  of  England  that  can 
never  really  die  out  of  the  Irish  heart. 

On  December  4th,  1880,  he  wrote  to  me  from  Dublin: — 

I  was  exceedingly  pleased  to  receive  your  letters;  to  say 
the  truth,  I  have  been  quite  homesick  since  leaving  Eltham, 
and  news  from  you  seems  like  news  from  home. 

The  Court  refused  our  application  to-day  for  a  postpone- 
ment of  the  trial  (of  the  Land  League),  but  this  we  expected, 
and  it  does  not  much  signify,  as  it  turns  out  that  we  need  not 
necessarily  attend  the  trial  unless  absolutely  directed  to  do 
so  by  the  Court. 

You  will  also  be  pleased  to  hear  that  the  special  jury  panel, 
of  which  we  obtained  a  copy  last  night,  is  of  such  a  character 
as  in  the  opinion  of  competent  judges  to  give  us  every  chance 
of  a  disagreement  by  the  jury  in  their  verdict,  but  we  cannot, 
of  course,  form  an  absolute  conclusion  until  the  jury  has  been 
sworn,  when  we  shall  be  able  to  tell  pretty  certainly  one  way 
or  the  other. 

Since  writing  Captain  O'Shea  it  does  not  look  as  if  I  could 
get  further  away  from  Ireland  than  London,  as  Paris  is  incon- 
venient from  its  distance. 

I  have  no  letter  from  him  yet  in  reply  to  mine. 

And  again  on  the  9  th :  — 

I  returned  from  Waterford  last  night,  and  shall  probably  get 
through  all  necessary  work  here  by  Saturday  evening  so  as  to 
enable  me  to  start  for  London  on  Sunday  morning.  I  do  not 
know  how  long  I  can  remain  in  London,  but  shall  run  down 
and  see  you  on  Monday,  and  perhaps  my  plans  will  be  more 
fixed  by  that  time. 

I  have  decided  not  to  attend  any  more  meetings  until  after 
the  opening  of  Parliament,  as  everything  now  can  go  on  without 
me. 

Kindly  inform  Captain  O'Shea  that  the  meeting  of  Irish 
members  will  be  in  Dublin  on  the  4th  January. 

152 


THE  LAND  LEAGUE  TRIALS 

On  December  12th  of  that  year  Mr.  Parnell  wrote 
from  Avondale  to  say  that  the  jury  panel  was  to  be 
struck  on  the  following  Monday  for  the  prosecution 
of  the  Land  League. 

.  .  .  And  it  will  be  necessary  for  me  to  see  it  before 
giving  final  directions. 

I  have  consequently  postponed  my  departure  till  Monday 
evening. 

I  have  come  here  to  arrange  my  papers  and  find  a  number 
which  I  should  not  like  to  destroy,  and  which  I  should  not 
like  the  Government  to  get  hold  of  in  the  event  of  their  search- 
ing my  house  in  the  troublous  times  which  appear  before  us. 
May  I  leave  them  at  Eltham.f* 

And  the  next  day :  — 

I  have  just  received  a  note  from  Healy,  who  is  to  be  tried 
at  Cork  on  Thursday,  saying  that  his  counsel  thinks  it  of  the 
utmost  importance  I  should  be  present. 

This  is  very  hard  lines  on  me,  as  I  had  looked  forward  to 
a  little  rest  in  London  before  my  own  trial  commences;  but 
I  do  not  see  how  it  can  be  helped,  as  Healy's  is  the  first  of 
the  State  trials,  and  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  secure  an 
acquittal  and  not  merely  a  disagreement.  I  shall  leave  Cork 
on  Thursday  night  and  arrive  in  London  Friday  evening,  and 
shall  call  to  see  you  at  Eltham  Saturday.  Your  letters,  one 
directed  here  and  the  others  to  Morrison's,  reached  me  in  due 
course,  and  I  hope  to  hear  from  you  again  very  soon. 

Parnell,  now,  alwaj^s  made  my  house  his  headquar- 
ters in  England,  and  on  his  return  from  Ireland  after 
the  trials  came  down  at  once  as  soon  as  he  had  ascer- 
tained that  I  was  alone. 

There  were  times  when  he  wished  to  keep  quiet  and 
let  no  one  know  where  he  was;  and,  as  it  became  known 
to   the   Government   that   Mr.    Parnell   frequented   my 

153 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

house  a  good  deal,  it  was  somewhat  difficult  to  avoid 
the  detectives  who  were  employed  to  watch  his  com- 
ings and  goings. 

On  one  occasion  in  1880  he  was  informed  privately 
that  his  arrest  for  "sedition"  was  being  urged  upon 
the  Government,  and  that  it  would  be  well  to  go  abroad 
for  a  short  time.  I  think  his  enigmatic  reply,  "I  will 
disappear  for  a  few  weeks,"  must  have  puzzled  his 
informant.  He  came  down  to  me  at  night,  and  when 
I  answered  his  signal  at  my  sitting-room  window,  and 
let  him  in,  he  told  me  with  a  deprecating  smile  that  I 
must  hide  him  for  a  few  weeks.  As  I  sat  watching  him 
eat  the  supper  I  always  had  ready  for  him  at  3  a.  m.  I 
felt  rather  hopeless,  as  he  was  a  big  man,  and  I  did  not 
see  how  he  could  be  hidden  from  the  servants.  He 
said  the  latter  must  not  know  he  was  there,  as  they 
would  talk  to  the  tradespeople,  and  they  to  the  Gov- 
ernment men.  He  did  not  wish  to  be  arrested  until 
later  on,  when  it  might  be  more  useful  than  not. 

Then  he  awaited  suggestions,  and  at  length  we  de- 
cided that  a  little  room  opening  out  of  my  own  must 
be  utilised  for  him,  as  I  always  kept  it  locked  and  never 
allowed  a  servant  into  it  —  except  very  occasionally 
to  "turn  it  out."  It  was  a  little  boudoir  dressing-room, 
and  had  a  sofa  in  it. 

Mr.  Parnell  was  then  still  feeling  ill  and  run  down, 
and  enjoyed  his  fortnight's  absolute  rest  in  this  room. 
None  of  the  servants  knew  that  he  was  there,  and  I 
took  all  his  food  up  at  night,  cooking  little  dainty  dishes 
for  him  at  the  open  fire,  much  to  his  pleasure  and  amuse- 
ment. He  spent  the  time  very  happily,  resting,  writ- 
ing "seditious"  speeches  for  future  use,  and  reading 
"Alice  in  Wonderland."  This  book  was  a  favourite 
of  his,  and  I  gave  it  to  him  with  the  solemnity  that 

154 


THE  LAND  LEAGUE  TRIALS 

befitted  his  grave  reading  of  it.  I  do  not  think  he 
ever  thought  it  in  the  least  amusing,  but  he  would 
read  it  earnestly  from  cover  to  cover,  and,  without  a 
smile,  remark  that  it  was  a  "curious  book." 

In  all  this  fortnight  no  one  had  the  least  idea  that 
he  was  in  the  house,  and  the  only  comment  I  ever  heard 
upon  my  prisoner's  diet  was  that  "the  mistress  ate  much 
more  when  she  had  her  meals  served  in  her  sitting-room." 

At  the  end  of  this  fortnight  he  had  arranged  to  go 
to  Paris  on  some  Land  League  business,  and  wanted 
me  to  go  to  see  him  off.  He  had  brought  certain  politi- 
cal correspondence  from  Avondale  and  London  and 
placed  it  in  my  charge,  and  this  I  kept  in  a  box  in  this 
little  private  room,  where  I  hid  him.  But  there  were 
two  papers  that  he  did  not  wish  left  even  here,  and, 
fearing  arrest,  could  not  carry  on  him.  For  these  he 
had  a  wide,  hollow  gold  bracelet  made  in  Paris,  and 
after  inserting  the  papers  he  screwed  the  bracelet  safely 
on  my  arm;  there  it  remained  for  three  years,  and  was 
then  unscrewed  by  him  and  the  contents  destroyed. 

The  winter  of  1880  w^as  terribly  cold,  and  as  I  let 
him  out  of  the  house  in  the  bitterly  cold  morning  I 
wished  he  did  not  consider  it  necessary  to  go  to  Paris 
by  such  a  roundabout  route  as  he  had  chosen. 

However,  we  drove  off  to  Lewisham  that  morning, 
quite  unobserved;  from  thence  we  went  by  train  to 
New  Cross,  and  drove  by  cab  to  London  Bridge.  At 
Vauxhall  we  started  for  Lowestoft;  for  Mr.  Parnell 
had  arranged  to  go  to  Paris  via  Harwich.  I  was  anx- 
ious about  him,  for  the  cold  was  intense,  and  the  deep 
snow  over  the  large  dreary  waste  of  salt  marshes  seemed 
reflected  in  his  pallor.  Our  train  slowly  passed  through 
the  dreary  tract  of  country,  feet  deep  in  its  white  cov- 
ering, and  we  could  see  no  sign  of  life  but  an  occasional 

155 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

seagull  vainly  seeking  for  food,  and  sending  a  weird 
call  through  the  lonely  silences. 

I  wrapped  Parnell  up  in  his  rugs  as  he  tried  to  sleep. 
I  loathed  the  great  white  expanse  that  made  him  look 
so  ill,  and  I  wished  I  had  him  at  home  again,  where  I 
could  better  fight  the  great  fear  that  so  often  beset 
my  heart:  that  I  could  not  long  keep  off  the  death  that 
hovered  near  him.  A  lady  and  gentleman  in  the  car- 
riage remarked  to  me  —  thinking  he  slept  —  that  my 
husband  looked  terribly  ill,  could  they  do  anything,^ 
And  I  noticed  the  little  smile  of  content  that  flitted 
over  his  face  as  he  heard  me  briskly  reply  that.  No, 
he  had  been  ill,  but  was  so  much  better  and  stronger 
that  I  was  not  at  all  uneasy.  It  was  the  cold  glare  of 
the  snow  that  made  him  look  so  delicate,  but  he  was 
really  quite  strong.  He  hated  to  be  thought  ill,  and 
did  not  see  the  doubt  in  their  faces  at  my  reply. 

Arrived  at  Lowestoft  I  insisted  upon  his  resting  and 
having  a  good  meal,  after  which  he  felt  so  cheered  up 
that  he  decided  to  return  to  London  with  me,  and  go 
to  Paris  by  the  usual  route  the  next  day! 

We  had  a  new  Irish  cook  at  this  time,  from  County 
Tipperary,  and  her  joy  exceeded  all  bounds  when  she 
learnt  that  the  Irish  leader  was  really  in  the  house  and 
she  was  to  cook  for  him.  I  had  to  ask  Mr.  Parnell 
to  see  her  for  a  moment,  as  she  was  too  excited  to  settle 
to  her  cooking.  Directly  she  got  into  the  room  Ellen 
fell  down  on  her  knees  and  kissed  his  hands,  much  to 
his  horror,  for,  although  used  to  such  homage  in  Ire- 
land, he  disliked  it  extremely,  and  he  told  me  with 
some  reproach  that  he  had  expected  to  be  quite  free 
from  that  sort  of  thing  in  my  house. 

At  Christmas  he  tipped  my  servants  generously,  and 
indeed  Ellen  and  the  parlourmaid  Mary  vied  with  each 

156 


THE  LAND  LEAGUE  TRIALS 

other  in  their  attention  to  his  comfort.  The  enthu- 
siasm of  the  cook  was  so  great  that  she  bought  an 
enormous  gold  locket,  and,  having  inserted  a  portrait 
of  Mr.  Parnell  in  it,  wore  it  constantly.  Mary,  not 
to  be  outdone,  thereupon  bought  a  locket  of  identi- 
cally the  same  design,  and  wore  it  with  an  air  of  de- 
fiance, when  bringing  in  tea,  on  New  Year's  Day. 

This  was  against  all  regulations,  and  I  said  laugh- 
ingly to  Mr.  Parnell  that  he  was  introducing  lawless- 
ness into  my  household.  He  answered,  "Leave  it  to 
me,"  and  when  Mary  appeared  again  he  said  gently 
to  her,  "Mary,  that  is  a  magnificent  locket,  and  I  see 
you  are  kind  enough  to  wear  my  portrait  in  it.  Mrs. 
O'Shea  tells  me  that  Ellen  has  bought  one  also,  but  I 
just  want  you  and  Ellen  not  to  wear  them  outside  like 
that,  for  Mrs.  O'Shea  lets  me  come  down  here  for  a 
rest,  and  if  people  know  I'm  here  I  shall  be  worried  to 
death  with  politics  and  people  calling."  So  Mary 
promised  faithfully,  and  Ellen  came  running  in  to  prom- 
ise too,  and  to  threaten  vengeance  on  "the  others" 
if  absolute  silence  was  not  observed.  The  lockets  went 
"inside,"  and  only  a  tiny  bit  of  chain  was  allowed  to 
show  at  the  throat  in  evidence  of  homage  continued, 
though  hidden. 

Meanwhile,  events  were  fusing  in  Ireland.  Parnell 
had  gone  over  there  immediately  after  Christmas.  From 
Dublin  he  wrote:  — 

Dublin, 
Monday  evening,  December  27,  1880. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  have  been  exceedingly  anxious 
all  day  at  not  receiving  your  promised  telegram  to  hear  how 
you  got  home;  trust  I  may  have  something  to-morrow  morn- 
ing that  it  is  all  right.*  —  Yours  in  haste,  C.  S.  P. 
*That  Captain  O'Shea  liad  left  Eltham  for  Madrid. 
157 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Morrison's   Hotel, 
Tuesday,  December  28,  1880. 

My  dearest  Wife,  —  You  will  be  delighted  to  learn  that 
everything  is  proceeding  first-rate  so  far. 

The  jury  sworn  to-day  cannot  possibly  convict  us,  and 
there  is  a  very  fair  chance  of  an  acquittal.  I  do  not  think 
the  Government  will  attempt  to  prevent  me  from  being  pres- 
ent at  the  opening  of  Parliament,  though  I  am  not  quite 
sure  yet  whether  it  will  be  prudent  for  me  to  leave  until  Wed- 
nesday evening.  So  far  as  I  can  see  there  is  no  necessity 
for  the  presence  of  any  of  the  Traversers ;  one  of  them,  Gordon, 
who  has  broken  his  leg,  has  not  appeared  at  all,  and  his  absence 
has  not  been  even  mentioned  or  noticed. 

I  was  immensely  relieved  by  your  letter  this  morning. 
You  must  take  great  care  of  yourself  for  my  sake  and  your 
and  my  future.  —  Yours  always,  C.  S.  P. 

I  have  wired  and  written  to  Madrid*  explaining  situation 
lest  my  observations  at  yesterday's  meeting  as  to  doubt  of 
my  being  in  Parliament,  intended  to  throw  dust  in  eyes  of 
Government,  might  be  literally  interpreted. 

Dublin, 
Thursday,  December  30,  1880. 
My  dearest  Love,  —  Your  letters  have  reached  me  quite 
safely,  and  you  cannot  tell  how  much  pleasure  they  give  me. 
I  fear  I  was  very  foolish  to  allow  you  to  come  with  me  the 
day  of  my  departure;  I  felt  sure  it  would  do  much  harm,  and 
until  your  first  letter  arrived  I  was  in  a  continual  panic  lest 
some  dreadful  disaster  had  happened. 

That  my  poor  love  should  have  suffered  so  much  makes 
my  heart  very  sore,  and  she  must  take  great  care  of  herself 
for  the  sake  of  our  future.     .     .     . 

I  enclose  letter  from  W.f  —  Yours  always  affectionately', 

C.  S.  P. 
Will  send  you  photo  to-morrow. 

*To  Captain  O'Shea. 
fCaptain  O'Shea. 
158 


THE  LAND  LEAGUE  TRIALS 

Dublin, 
January  3,  1881. 

My  dearest  Wifie,  —  Was  most  delighted  on  return  this 
morning  from  Avondale  to  find  3'our  three  letters  and  telegrams. 
I  think  it  would  make  you  happy  and  more  contented  during 
my  absence  if  you  knew  how  I  watched  for  your  letters,  and 
how  often  I  read  and  re-read  them. 

I  felt  very  much  tempted  to  run  over  and  spend  the  New 
Year  and  Sunday  with  you,  but  feared  you  might  not  be  alone. 

It  pains  me  very  much  that  my  own  love  was  unhappy 
about  that  stupid  thing  in  the  Freeman  on  Thursday.  An 
old  and  ugly  woman  with  whom  I  was  very  slightly  acquainted, 
but  who  wanted  to  put  herself  en  evidence,  perched  herself 
just  behind  me,  and  got  a  gentleman  sitting  next  to  her  to 
hand  me  down  a  slip  of  paper,  on  which  was  written  some 
message  of  congratulation.  I  only  rewarded  her  with  a  stare, 
did  not  even  bow  or  smile,  and  certainly  sent  no  communica- 
tion of  any  kind  in  reply.  That  was  all.  I  will  ask  my  own 
dearest  to  believe  in  me  while  I  am  away,  and  never  again  to 
feel  unhappiness  from  want  of  confidence. 

I  have  made  all  arrangements  to  leave  by  mail  on  Wednes- 
day morning,  and  shall  be  with  my  own  wifie  on  Wednesday 
evening  about  eight.  —  Yours,  C.  S.  P. 

Mr.  Parnell  held  the  Party  meeting  in  Dublin  on 
January  4th,  and  returned  to  me  on  January  5th,  in 
time  for  the  meeting  of  the  House  (on  6th  January, 
1881),  not  having  thought  it  necessary  to  remain  in 
Ireland  till  the  termination  of  the  trials  —  a  circum- 
stance which,  curiously  enough,  \vas  not  publicly  re- 
marked upon.  We  spent  some  days  together  at  Eltham, 
and  I  took  Mr.  Parnell  to  see  my  aunt,  who  was  much 
charmed  with  him.  His  quiet  manners  and  soft,  clear 
voice  pleased  her  greatly,  as  also  did  his  personal  ap- 
pearance. She  took  his  arm,  and  paced  up  and  down 
the  tapestry  room  with  him,  while  she  told  him  how 

159 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

she  was  introduced  to  O'Connell  in  the  old  days,  when 
her  husband,  Benjamin  Wood,  was  M.  P.  for  South- 
wark.  She  had  met  O'Connell  at  the  House,  and  heard 
what  vs^as  said  to  have  been  one  of  his  greatest  speeches. 
She  said,  "I  much  prefer  your  voice,  Mr.  Parnell,  for 
Daniel   O'Connell's   enunciation   was   starthng   to   me." 

Though  such  a  great  age  my  aunt  had  still  a  very 
pretty  round  arm,  and  as  she  always  wore  the  net  sleeves 
of  her  youth,  fastened  with  old-fashioned  bracelets, 
Mr.  Parnell  noticed  this,  and  commented  upon  the 
fact  to  me.  The  old  lady  was  much  gratified  when  I 
told  her  of  this.  She  enlisted  his  sympathy  by  telling 
him  that  she  had  to  pay  £500  a  year  in  order  to  keep 
her  beautiful  old  grounds  intact,  as  the  Crown  desired 
to  sell  the  place  for  building  lots,  and  she  was  deter- 
mined to  die  in  the  old  house  she  had  lived  in  for  over 
fifty  years. 

The  State  trial  ended  on  January  25th,  1881,  the 
foreman  of  the  jury  stating:  "We  are  unanimous  that 
we  cannot  agree,"  as  Mr.  Parnell  had  assured  me  they 
would.  He  was  in  Court  and  loudly  cheered  as  he  hastened 
off  to  catch  the  boat  to  England. 


160 


CHAPTER  XIX 

PARLIAMENTARY    ASSOCIATIONS 

"Live    to-day  —  the    past    is    registered  —  the  future   is    unguessed  —  the 
instant  ours."  —  Mortimer  Collins. 

Forster's  Coercion  Bill  was  introduced  on  January 
24th,  1881,  and  on  the  25th  Mr.  Gladstone  moved 
that  it  should  have  precedence  of  all  other  business 
before  the  House.  Mr.  Parnell  fiercely  opposed  this 
motion,  and  kept  his  followers  hard  at  work  in  oppo- 
sition —  thus  forcing  the  House  to  sit  from  4  p.  m.  on 
Tuesday  until  2  p.  m.  of  the  next  day.  The  details  of 
these  sittings  have  been  recounted  ad  nauseam,  and 
I  need  not  repeat  them  here,  but  only  record  Parnell's 
fierce  joy  in  these  political  fights,  and  my  pride  in  him 
as  I  watched  him  from  the  Ladies'  Gallery.  Some- 
times Willie  would  wish  to  give  the  seats  he  secured 
in  the  Ladies'  Gallery  to  friends  of  his,  and  on  such 
occasions  I  always  knew  that  Mr.  Parnell  would  ballot 
one  for  me.  Of  course,  later  on  I  could  always  secure 
a  seat  without  ballot,  if  one  was  vacant,  as  I  had  to 
wait  to  receive  messages  from  Mr.  Parnell  and  ^h\ 
Gladstone,  and  it  was  made  known  to  the  attendants 
that  on  any  important  occasion  I  held  priority  of  place. 
On  January  27th  the  debate  was  resumed,  and  the 
House  sat  continuously  for  forty-one  hours.  Mr.  Par- 
nell retired  to  the  Westminster  Palace  Hotel  for  a  few 
hours'  rest  during  this  sitting,  and  after  the  little  rest 
drove  quickly  to  one  of  our  meeting-places  to  tell  me 
of  his  plans  before  I  went  down  to  Eltham. 

161 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

As  a  rule,  after  an  all-night  sitting  he  used  to  drive 
down  to  Eltham  in  order  not  to  become  well  known  on 
the  Eltham  railway,  and  come  through  the  conserva- 
tory into  my  sitting-room,  where  I  would  have  supper 
ready  for  him  before  the  fire,  with  his  smoking- jacket 
and  slippers  ready  to  put  on.  He  seldom  spoke  after 
his  first  greeting.  He  would  take  off  his  frock-coat 
and  boots,  and,  when  I  slipped  on  the  others  for  him, 
he  would  eat  his  supper  quite  silently,  thinking  over 
the  events  of  the  night.  I  never  worried  him  to  talk. 
Supper  finished,  he  would  light  a  cigar  and  sit  down  in 
his  own  arm-chair,  saying,  "Well,  Queenie,  the  Old 
Man  spoke  to-night,"  or  So-and-so  spoke,  and  then 
slowly  tell  me  of  all  that  had  passed  during  the  sitting, 
and  his  opinion  of  the  present  and  future,  so  far  as 
politics  were  concerned. 

Sometimes  when  he  had  spoken  himself  he  would 
say:  "I  did  not  speak  well  to-night,"  and  sometimes 
it  was:  "I  lost  that  quotation  you  gave  me  and  brought 
it  out  sideways,  and  there  it  was  all  the  time  crushed 
up  in  my  hand!  Then  I  forgot  the  fellow's  name  and 
called  him  'the  poet.'" 

"Well,  Shakespeare  can  be  called  'the  poet,'"  I  would 
return  soothingly. 

"Yes.^  Is  that  so?  It  seemed  to  worry  some  of  the 
reporters;  one  came  and  asked  me  what  I  meant!  You 
must  make  me  learn  it  better  next  time." 

Once  he  began  to  talk  he  confided  all  his  thoughts 
to  me  unreservedly,  and  the  more  freely  that  he  had 
not  been  worried  to  talk  when  he  came  in  cold  or  tired. 
He  used  to  say  that  it  was  such  a  relief  to  get  right 
away  from  the  House  when  a  sitting  was  over,  and  he 
enjoyed  the  drive  down  to  Eltham  in  a  hansom  cab 
every  night  or  early  morning.  It  was  only  an  eight- 
ies 


PARLIAMENTARY  ASSOCIATIONS 

miles  drive,  but  part  of  it  was  then  very  pleasant,  through 
country  lanes  and  over  a  common.  Now  London  has 
swallowed  up  most  of  these  pretty  bits. 

After  relieving  his  mind  of  all  political  affairs  of  the 
day  he  would  talk  of  things  that  were  of  home  inter- 
est to  us  —  of  his  stone  quarries  at  Arklow,  his  saw- 
mills, etc.,  of  what  Kerr,  his  Irish  agent,  was  doing  at 
Avondale;  or  of  some  of  his  hobbies  at  home.  So  we 
would  talk  till  daylight  sent  pale  gleams  of  light  under 
the  window  curtains,  and  he  would  say:  "I  am  really 
sleepy,  Queenie;  I'll  go  to  bed,"  and  as  a  rule  he  would 
sleep  soundly  until  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
when  he  would  come  down  to  breakfast  in  my  sitting- 
room. 

Parnell  was  always  generous  in  letting  any  members 
of  his  Party  speak  when  they  had  a  chance  of  distin- 
guishing themselves,  and  he  would  at  once  give  way 
when  he  thought  any  member  could  speak  better  on 
any  subject  than  himself.  This  most  of  his  Party,  if 
not  all,  acknowledged  at  one  time.  I  mention  the 
characteristic  because  I  have  noticed  in  more  than  one 
of  the  so-called  "Lives"  written  by  those  strangely 
ignorant  of  the  man's  real  character  that  considerable 
stress  is  laid  upon  Parnell's  jealousy.  He  was  jealous, 
abnormally  so  where  his  affections  were  concerned,  but 
not  in  political  life. 

Gladstone  once  said  that  "Parnell  always  knew  what 
he  wanted  to  say,  and  said  it,"  but  he  was  not  a 
ready  speaker,  and  his  constitutional  nervousness,  hidden 
though  it  was  under  the  iron  mask  of  reserve  he  always 
wore  in  public,  rendered  public  speaking  very  painful 
work  to  him.  He  was  extremely  modest  about  his  own 
speeches,  and  frequently  would  say  to  me  that  So-and-so 
"would  have  put  that  much  better  to  the  House,  but  I 

163 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

could  not  have  trusted  him  to  say  it,  and  leave  it."  He 
considered  that  most  Irishmen  spoilt  things  by  over-elab- 
oration. Here  also  I  may  record  a  protest  at  the  tales  of 
gross  discourtesies,  spoken  utterly  without  motive,  re- 
corded in  some  of  these  "Lives." 

The  Parnell  I  knew  —  and  I  may  claim  to  have  known 
him  more  intimately  than  anyone  else  on  earth,  both  in 
public  and  private  life  —  was  incapable  of  such  motiveless 
brusqueries.  That  Parnell  could  crush  utterly  and  with- 
out remorse  I  know;  that  he  could  deal  harshly,  even 
brutally,  with  anyone  or  anything  that  stood  against  him 
in  the  path  he  meant  to  tread,  I  admit;  but  that  he  would 
ever  go  out  of  his  way  to  say  a  grossly  rude  thing  or 
make  an  unprovoked  attack,  whether  upon  the  personal 
appearance,  morals,  or  character  of  another  man,  I  ab- 
solutely deny.  Parnell  was  ruthless  in  all  his  dealings  with 
those  who  thwarted  his  will,  but  —  he  was  never  petty. 

Parnell  had  a  most  beautiful  and  harmonious  voice 
when  speaking  in  public.  Verj^  clear  it  was,  even  in 
moments  of  j^assion  against  his  own  and  his  country's 
foes  —  passion  modulated  and  suppressed  until  I  have 
seen,  from  the  Ladies'  Gallery,  his  hand  clenched  until 
the  "Orders  of  the  Day"  which  he  held  were  crushed 
into  pulp,  and  only  that  prevented  his  nails  piercing 
his  hand.  Often  I  have  taken  the  "Orders"  out  of 
his  pocket,  twisted  into  shreds  —  a  fate  that  also  over- 
took the  slips  of  notes  and  the  occasional  quotations 
he  had  got  me  to  look  out  for  him. 

Sometimes  when  he  was  going  to  speak  I  could  not 
leave  my  aunt  long  enough  to  be  sure  of  getting  to  the 
Ladies'  Gallery  in  time  to  hear  him;  or  we  might  think 
it  inexpedient  that  I  should  be  seen  to  arrive  so  soon 
after  him  at  the  House.  On  these  occasions,  when  J 
was  able,  I  would  arrive  perhaps  in  the  middle  of  hi; 

164 


PARLIAMENTARY  ASSOCIATIONS 

speech  and  look  down  upon  him,  saying  in  my  heart, 
"I  have  come!"  and  invariably  I  would  see  the  answer- 
ing signal  —  the  lift  of  the  head  and  lingering  touch  of 
the  white  rose  in  his  coat,  which  told  me,  "I  know, 
my  Queen!" 

This  telepathy  of  the  soul,  intuition,  or  what  you 
will,  was  so  strong  between  us  that,  whatever  the  busi- 
ness before  the  House,  whether  Parnell  was  speaking 
or  not,  in  spite  of  the  absolute  impossibility  of  distin- 
guishing any  face  or  form  behind  the  grille  of  the  La- 
dies' Gallery,  Parnell  was  aware  of  my  presence,  even 
though  often  he  did  not  expect  me,  as  soon  as  I  came  in, 
and  answered  my  wordless  message  by  the  signal  that 
I  knew. 

Sometimes  he  would  wish  to  speak  to  me  before  I 
went  home,  and  would  signal  by  certain  manipula- 
tions of  his  handkerchief  to  me  to  go  and  await  him 
at  Charing  Cross,  or  another  of  our  meeting-places, 
and  there  he  would  come  to  me  to  tell  me  how  things 
were  going,  or  to  chat  for  a  few  minutes,  or  get  from 
me  the  replies  to  messages  sent  through  me  to  Mr. 
Gladstone. 

4c  4c  4:  H:  ^  4:  4i 

The  Grosvenor  Hotel, 
Wednesday  morning,  February  23,  1881. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  am  just  leaving  for  Paris,  where 
I  shall  remain  for  a  few  days. 

The  Cork  and  other  meetings  will  be  postponed,  as  Coercion 
Bill  will  not  be  passed  by  Sunday. 

Please  write  me  as  before,  and  send  some  addresses.  — 
Yours  always,  C.  S.  P. 

Dover, 
Wednesday,  February  23,  1881. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  Am  just  starting  for  Calais. 

165 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Kindly  send  on  my  portmanteau  with  my  letters  and 
other  things  in  my  room  or  in  the  wardrobe  to  me  at  Hotel 
Brighton,  Rue  de  RivoH,  Paris.  —  Yours  always,         C.  S.  P. 

February '^5,  1881. 

My  dearest  Katie,  —  I  have  just  received  your  three 
letters,  and  am  so  delighted  to  read  them  hurriedly  before 
sending  you  this  line  in  time  for  post. 

I  never  had  the  slightest  doubt  of  my  darling,  and  cannot 
imagine  why  she  should  think  so. 

Did  not  know  I  was  going  when  leaving  here,  but  was 
induced  to  leave  by  private  information,  the  nature  of  which 
I  will  send  you  in  my  next. 

Am  not  yet  sure  whether  I  shall  return,  but  shall  manage 
to  see  you  in  any  case.  —  Yours,  C. 

Paris, 
Sunday,  February  27,  1881. 
Have  received  following  telegram  which  do  not  understand: 
"Motive  actuating  latest  arrival  worthy  consideration  — 
telegraph  all  right." 

Please  explain  who  is  latest  arrival.  —  Yours  very  truly, 

C.  S.  P. 
Have  no  letter  from  you  to-day. 


Hotel  Brighton,   218  Rue  de  Rivoli,   Paris, 

Sunday  evening,  February  27,  1881. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  cannot  understand  your  tele- 
gram received  to-day  at  all,  although  I  have  been  thinking  it 
over  all  the  evening.     I  wired  back  as  you  appeared  to  request 
in  it,  "All  right." 

There  was  no  letter  for  me  from  you  at  the  usual  address, 
so  I  enclose  another,  as  I  fear  something  may  have  gone  wrong. 
You  can  write  me  freely  in  my  own  name  under  cover  to  this 
address:  Thomas  Adams  and  Co.,  Limited,  33  Rue  d'Haute- 
ville,  Paris,  and  they  will  forward  the  letters  safely  to  me. 

16G 


PARLIAMENTARY  ASSOCIATIONS 

I  have  been  warned  from  Dublin  that  there  is  some  plot  on 
foot  against  us  which  has  been  originated  by  information 
received  from  Cork,  and  you  will  guess  the  original  source. 

I  am  expecting  further  information  to-morrow  in  refer- 
ence to  it.  I  have  received  five  letters  in  all  from  you  since  my 
arrival  in  Paris.     Best  not  post  your  letters  at  Eltham. 

I  did  not  know  when  leaving  you  that  I  was  going  —  my 
departure  was  influenced  by  information  of  reliable  kind  that 
my  arrest  was  intended  for  passage  in  Clare  speech,  and  that 
bail  would  be  refused,  and  I  should  be  left  in  jail  until  Habeas 
Corpus  was  suspended,  when  I  could  have  been  again  arrested. 
I  think,  however,  they  have  now  abandoned  this  intention, 
but  will  make  sure  before  I  return. 

This  is  my  third  letter  to  you  since  my  arrival  here.  — 
Yours,  C.  S.  P. 

Hotel  Brighton,  218  Rue  de  Rivoli,  Paris, 

Tuesday,  March  1,  1881. 

My  dearest  Love,  —  To-day  I  have  received  your  four 
letters,  the  earliest  of  which  was  written  on  Saturday.  You 
do  not  seem  to  have  written  on  Friday,  as  there  was  nothing 
for  me  on  Saturday  or  Sunday. 

I  propose  returning  to  London  on  Thursday  morning, 
leaving  here  Wednesday  evening,  but  it  is  just  possible  I  may 
not  leave  till  Thursday  morning,  in  which  case  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  see  my  Katie  until  Friday. 

If  I  return  Thursday  morning,  my  Queen  may  expect  to 
see  me  about  one  o'clock. 

Your  letters  make  me  both  happy  and  sad,  happy  to  hear 
from  my  own,  but  sad  when  I  see  how  troubled  you  are.  — 
Always  yours,  Charles. 

Glasgow, 
Tuesday,  April  19,  1881. 
Dearest  Katie,  —  I  send  you  authority  for  letters.     They 
are  in  two  forms,  one  authorising  delivery  to  you,  and  the 
other  to  bearer. 

187 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

To-night  I  leave  by  boat  for  Dublin,  arriving  to-morrow 
morning.  I  trust  my  own  wifie  has  not  permitted  herself  to 
be  too  unhappy,  and  that  she  has  not  been  worried.  I  am 
writing  with  her  own  beautiful  face  before  me,  and  have  just 
kissed  it.  —  Always  your  husband. 

Please  write  me  to  Morrison's. 


168 


CHAPTER  XX 

HOBBIES    AND    A    CHALLENGE 

"Admire,  exult  —  despise  —  laugh,  loeep  — for  here 
There  is  much  matter  for  allfeelirig;  Alan ! 
Thou  Pendulum  betioixt  a  smile  and  tear.''  — Byron. 

In  the  early  summer  of  1881  my  aunt  had  one  of  her 
old  friends  to  stay  with  her,  and  I  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity of  freedom  to  take  my  children  to  Brighton  for 
a  month,  after  settling  the  old  ladies  together.  I  had 
gone  down  before  the  children  to  take  rooms  for  them, 
and  was  walking  across  Brighton  Station  when  I  was 
suddenly  joined  by  a  tall  man  whom  I  did  not  recognise 
for  a  moment  until  he  said  quietly,  "Don't  you  know 
me?"  It  was  Mr.  Parnell,  who  had  slipped  into  the 
train  at  Clapham  Junction,  knowing  that  I  was  going 
to  Brighton,  and  who  had  cut  off  his  beard  with  his 
pocket  scissors  in  the  train  in  order  to  avoid  being  rec- 
ognised at  Brighton.  He  had  wrapped  a  white  muffler 
round  his  throat,  and  pulled  it  as  high  as  possible  over 
the  lower  part  of  his  face,  with  the  result  that  the  man- 
ageress of  the  hotel  he  stayed  at  was  cei-lain  that  he 
had  an  infectious  illness  of  the  throat,  and  rather  de- 
murred at  letting  him  in.  It  was  only  by  the  expedient 
of  complaining  loudly  at  being  kept  v/aiting  in  the 
draught  with  his  "raging  toothache"  that  "Mr.  Stew- 
art" was  reluctantly  admitted.  I  could  not  bear  his 
appearance  —  neither  bearded  nor  shaven  —  so  he  went 
off  soon  after  arrival,  was  properly  shaved,  and  relieved 

169 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

the  hotel  staff  by  discarding  the  muffler  and  assuring 
them  that  he  was  free  from  pain  now  his  "tooth"  was 
out. 

He  went  to  Cork  soon  after  this  and,  to  please  me, 
was  photographed  without  the  beard  and  with  the  ring 
I  had  given  him  on  his  finger.  We  had  had  a  little  quar- 
rel, and  were  very  unhappy  until  we  had  made  it  up 
again,  and  he  had  this  photograph  done  to  remind  me 
that  he  wore  my  ring.  He  also  gave  sittings  to  Henry 
O'Shea  (no  relation  of  Captain  O'Shea)  for  a  portrait 
(pencil)  at  this  time,  and  this  was  sent  to  him  while 
he  was  in  Kilmainham.  He  liked  this  sketch  much, 
and  wrote  to  the  paper  for  which  it  was  done  to  this 
effect.  When  he  left  the  prison  he  brought  the  sketch 
home  to  me,  and  I  have  it  now.  It  hung  in  our  dining- 
room  till  he  died,  and  he  always  liked  it,  but  I  still 
think  it  a  little  hard  and  expressionless;  the  eyes  are 
too  large  and  empty.  There  was  a  painting  done  of 
Parnell  years  afterwards,  and  here  also  the  artist  failed 
with  the  eyes.  This  latter  portrait  was  not,  I  think, 
done  from  life,  but  from  photographs,  so  there  was 
reason  for  the  failure  in  this  respect,  photographs  mak- 
ing unsatisfactory  studies.  The  artist  who  painted 
this  last  picture  gave  Parnell  blue  eyes;  presumably 
following  the  idea  that  Parnell  was  an  Irishman,  and 
must  therefore  have  blue  eyes,  whereas  the  facts  were 
that  Parnell  was  not  an  Irishman,  but  the  son  of  an 
Englishman  resident  in  Ireland  and  his  American  wife, 
and  had  brown  eyes,  not  large,  but  with  the  smoulder- 
ing fires  in  them  that  gave  character  to  his  cold,  high- 
bred face. 

Parnell  had  so  many  hobbies  and  interests  in  his 
home  life  that  it  is  difficult  to  enumerate  them  all.  He 
once  said  rather  wearily  that  if  he  had  not  "taken  off 

170 


MR.     PARNELL    IN     1881 
A  photograph  taken  for  Mrs.  Parnell  after  his  beard  had  been  cut 


HOBBIES  AND  A  CHALLENGE 

his  coat"  in  the  Irish  cause  and  for  the  Irish  people 
he  could  have  been  always  happy  at  home  working 
at  things  so  much  more  congenial  to  him. 

At  one  time  he  took  up  all  the  intricacies  of  book- 
keeping in  order  that  he  might  check  his  Irish  agent's 
accounts,  and  many  weeks  he  sat  immersed  in  double 
entry,  estate  accounts  keeping,  commercial  booking, 
etc.,  in  the  evening,  while  I  sat  near  him  typing  re- 
plies to  his  letters  ready  for  his  signature.  He  used 
to  threaten  me  with  lessons  in  book-keeping,  so  that  I 
might  be  ready  to  help  him  with  the  estate  manage- 
ment at  Avondale  when  we  went  to  live  there;  but  I 
felt  that  my  duties  as  his  extra  and  most  private  secre- 
tary were  sufficiently  arduous,  and  declined  instruction 
in  account-keeping. 

Many  hours  were  also  spent  in  architectural  draw- 
ings, which  interested  him  greatly.  At  that  time  Brighton 
Station  was  being  rebuilt,  and  Parnell  was  intensely 
interested  in  getting  the  "span"  of  the  roof.  He 
spent  hours  at  odd  times  pacing  the  station,  measur- 
ing distances,  heights,  depth  of  roof,  etc.,  etc.,  and  in 
drawing  up  plans  in  order  that  he  might  build  a  cattle 
shed  on  the  same  lines  at  Avondale.  These  plans  he 
afterwards  submitted  to  a  well-known  architect  for  his 
opinion  on  them,  and  they  were  returned  as  absolutely 
correct  in  every  detail.  He  then  reduced  the  whole 
thing  to  scale  and  had  the  cattle  shed  made  from  these 
plans  at  Avondale. 

I  well  remember  his  look  of  reproach  at  me  when 
I  laughed  while  reading  him  a  letter  from  his  agent 
at  Avondale  the  following  winter.  The  agent  said 
that  Mrs.  Delia  Parnell  (Parnell's  mother)  had  arrived 
unexpectedly  at  Avondale,  and,  after  seeing  the  new 
cattle  shed,  had  at  once  decided  to  give  an  entertain- 

171 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

ment  in  it.  This  she  had  done,  having  the  cattle  shifted 
from  their  comfortable  quarters,  the  place  boarded  in, 
and  a  temporary  floor  laid  down. 

Parnell  did  not  see  that  this  expensive  and  trouble- 
some eviction  of  his  cattle  for  so  frivolous  a  reason 
was  in  the  least  funny,  and  was  very  greatly  annoyed 
at  the  whole  proceeding.  He  was  always  most  chival- 
rously kind  to  his  mother,  however,  and  his  protest 
on  this  occasion  was  very  gentle,  though  coupled  with 
firm  insistence  on  the  instant  restoration  of  the  cattle- 
house  to  its  tenants. 

Another  of  his  hobbies  was  the  "assaying"  of  small 
pieces  of  quartz  from  the  stream  at  Wicklow,  and  I 
used  to  help  him  for  hours  at  this,  keeping  his  blow- 
pipe constantly  at  work,  while  he,  silent  and  absorbed, 
manipulated  the  crucibles.  When  we  went  to  live  at 
Brighton,  after  my  aunt's  death,  he  had  a  furnace 
fitted  up  in  one  of  the  rooms  so  that  he  could  work  on 
a  larger  scale.  His  endeavour  to  obtain  gold  from 
this  quartz  was  rewarded  to  a  certain  extent;  but  the 
working  was,  of  course,  far  too  laborious  and  expen- 
sive to  be  profitable  otherwise  than  as  a  hobby.  How- 
ever, Parnell  for  five  years  worked  at  it  in  various  odd 
hours  till  he  had  extracted  sufficient  gold  to  line  my 
wedding  ring,  even  though  his  hope  of  getting  enough 
for  the  whole  ring  was  not  fulfilled. 

When  working  at  these  things  Parnell  was  abso- 
lutely oblivious  to  the  passing  of  time,  and  it  was  with 
difficulty  that  I  prevailed  upon  him  to  take  sufficient 
exercise,  or  even  to  take  his  meals  before  they  were 
spoiled  by  waiting.  He  would  order  his  horse,  "Presi- 
dent," to  be  taken  to  a  certain  place  about  a  half-mile 
from  the  house,  at  the  hour  he  wished  to  ride,  and  then 
become  so  absorbed  in  the  particular  hobby  of  the  mo- 

172 


HOBBIES  AND  A  CHALLENGE 

ment  that  even  I  could  get  nothing  from  him  but  an 
abstracted  smile  and  a  gentle  "Is  that  so?"  in  answer 
to  the  intimation  that  his  horse  had  been  waiting  some 
two  hours  or  more  for  him. 

Many  a  day  I  have  let  him  work  up  to  the  last  pos- 
sible moment,  and  then  literall}^  pulled  off  the  old  "car- 
digan" jacket  he  worked  in,  and  forced  him  into  his 
frock-coat  for  the  House;  and  it  happened  more  than 
once  that  he  was  due  to  attend  a  meeting  in  Ireland, 
and  when  I  had  packed  his  things  and  had  the  carriage 
at  the  door  ready  for  him  he  w^ould  throw  himself  into 
a  chair  and  with  his  slow,  grave  smile  say,  "You  are 
in  a  hurry  to  get  rid  of  me;  I  will  not  go  yet.  Sit  down 
and  let  me  look  at  you  a  bit,  my  Queen."  I  w^ould 
protest  that  he  must  go,  that  he  would  lose  the  mail 
train.  "Then  I'll  be  no  use  at  the  meeting,  for  it  will 
be  over!"  he  would  mockingly  reply;  and  so,  when  the 
last  possible  chance  of  his  being  in  time  had  vanished, 
he  would  sit  opposite  me  through  the  evening  talking 
of  politics,  Avondale,  and  assaying  —  of  anything  that 
came  into  his  head  —  always  watching  me  with  that 
intent,  considering  gaze  that  was  my  bewilderment  and 
my  joy. 

When  he  failed  a  meeting  like  this,  where  hundreds 
of  people  were  waiting  for  him  —  or  other  appoint- 
ments, private  or  public  —  I  sometimes  would  want 
him  to  telegraph,  or  write,  apologising  or  excusing  his 
non-attendance,  but  this  he  would  never  do,  saying, 
"You  do  not  learn  the  ethics  of  kingship,  Queenie. 
Never  explain,  never  apologise";  adding,  with  his  rare 
laugh:  "I  could  never  keep  my  rabble  together  if  I 
were  not  above  the  human  weakness  of  apology." 

When  Parnell  came  home  from  Ireland  after  these 
meetings  he  would  sit  smoking  and  watching  me  as  I 

173 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

went  through  the  pockets  of  the  coats  he  had  worn 
while  away.  It  was  a  most  interesting  game,  and  he 
enjoyed  it  as  much  as  I  when  I  brought  out  a  new  trophy 
from  the  depths  of  the  deepest  and  most  obvious  side- 
pocket.  It  was  a  point  of  honour  that  he  should  not 
"feel  or  look"  till  he  got  home  to  me,  and  I  have  a 
dear  little  collection  of  souvenirs  now  from  these  pock- 
ets —  little  medals  with  the  images  of  various  saints, 
scapulars  and  badges,  slipped  in  by  the  deft,  modest 
fingers  of  sweet-faced  nuns,  in  the  crowds,  whose  startled, 
deprecating  blushes  when  he  turned  and  caught  the 
delinquent  in  the  act  always  won  a  courteous  bow  and 
smile  from  the  heretic  "Chief"  whose  conversion  their 
patriotic  hearts  so  ardently  desired.  I  found  also  odds 
and  ends  pressed  upon  him  by  the  hero-worshipping 
peasants,  some  gruesome  scrap  of  the  rope  that  had 
hanged  some  unknown  scamp  and  hero,  so  "aising  to 
the  bone-pains,  an'  his  riv'rance  not  looking,  a  bit  of  a 
twisht  roun'  yer  honour's  arrm!"  or  perhaps  a  flattened 
old  bullet  that  had  gained  some  fancied  power  in  its 
evil  journey  through  a  man's  heart.  Then  there  were 
the  brand-new  kerchiefs  of  most  vivid  green,  most  beauti- 
fully embroidered  by  the  clever  fingers  of  "herself," 
and  so  many  four-leaved,  and  therefore  "lucky,"  sham- 
rocks from  the  "colleens,"  who  went  singing  all  the  year 
if  they  thereby  earned  a  smile  from  the  Chief.  Even 
the  little  children  used  to  make  sudden,  shy  offerings 
to  their  hero;  a  "quare  bit  ave  a  stone,"  a  "farden 
me  mither  giv  me,"  or  some  uneasy  looking  fragment 
of  what  might  once  have  been  a  bird's  egg.  Of  sticks, 
blackthorns  and  others,  I  once  had  an  enormous  col- 
lection brought  back  to  me  at  various  times  by  Par- 
nell,  but  these,  together  with  the  two  riding-whips  I 
had  myself  given  him,  were  stolen  from   me   some  ten 

174 


HOBBIES  AND  A  CHALLENGE 

years  ago,  when  I  was  moving  from  one  house  to  an- 
other. The  two  riding-whips  I  prized  very  highly, 
for  Parnell  was  so  pleased  when  I  gave  them  to  him. 
One  was  gold-mounted,  the  other  silver-mounted,  and 
each  had  "C.  S.  P."  engraved  upon  it. 

Among  my  stick  collection  was  one  made  of  horn 
—  a  curious  thing,  carved  and  inlaid  with  ivory,  sent 
him  by  some  unknown  American  admirer.  He  used 
this  stick  on  his  last  journey  upstairs  from  the  sitting- 
room  to  the  bed  where  he  died. 

In  January  of  1881,  Willie,  who  had  rooms  then 
in  Charles  Street,  Haymarket,  came  down  to  Eltham 
suddenly,  very  angry  indeed  with  me  because  he  had 
seen  some  men  watching  his  lodgings,  and  imagined 
that  I  had  engaged  a  detective  to  do  so.  As  I  had 
never  had  an  idea  of  doing  anything  of  the  sort  I  was 
extremely  annoyed,  and  a  violent  quarrel  was  the  re- 
sult. As  a  matter  of  fact  the  men  were  watching  the 
upper  floor,  where  a  friend  of  Willie's  lived,  and  this 
friend's  wife  afterwards  divorced  him. 

All  these  months,  since  my  first  meeting  with  Mr. 
Parnell,  Willie  knew  at  least  that  I  frequently  met 
him  at  the  House.  He  had  invited  him  to  Eltham  him- 
self, though  when  the  visit  was  first  proposed  I  said 
my  house  was  too  shabby,  the  children  would  worry 
so  nervous  a  man,  and  we  had  better  not  break  the 
routine  of  our  (Willie's  and  my)  life  (which  by  then 
was  tacitly  accepted  as  a  formal  separation  of  a  friendly 
sort),  giving  any  and  every  excuse,  because  of  the  dan- 
ger I  knew  I  was  not  able  to  withstand. 

But  Willie  was  blind  to  the  existence  of  the  fierce, 
bewildering  force  that  was  rising  within  me  in  answer 
to  the  call  of  those  passion-haunted  eyes,  that  waking 
or    sleeping    never    left    me.     Willie    then,    as    always, 

175 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARXELL 

was  content  that  vrhat  was  his,  was  his  for  good  or  ill. 
He  Isjiew  that  men,  in  our  past  life  together,  had  ad- 
mired me,  even  that  some  had  loved  me;  but  that  was 
to  their  ovv'n  imdoing,  an  impertinence  that  had  very 
properly  recoiled  upon  their  own  heads.  His  wife 
could  net  love  anyone  but  himself;  perhaps  unfortu- 
nately she  did  not  even  do  that,  but  after  ail  "love" 
was  only  a  relative  term  —  a  little  vulgar  even,  after 
girlhood  had  passed,  and  the  mild  affection  of  his  own 
feelings  towards  her  were  no  doubt  reciprocated,  in 
spite  of  the  unfortunate  temperamental  differences  that 
made  constant  companionship  impossible. 

So  Parnell  came,  having  in  his  gentle,  insistent  way 
urged  his  invitation,  and  from  Willie.  And  now  Willie 
and  I  were  quarrelling  because  he,  my  lawful  husband, 
had  come  down  without  the  invitation  that  was  now 
(for  some  years)  understood  as  due  to  the  courtesy  of 
friends,  and  because  he  had  become  vaguely  suspicious. 
Flying  rumours  had  perhaps  reached  his  ears;  and  now 
it  was  too  late,  for  he  dared  not  formulate  them,  they 
were  too  vague;  too  late,  for  I  had  been  swept  into  the 
avalanche  of  Parnell's  love;  too  late,  for  I  possessed  the 
husband  of  my  heart  for  all  eternity. 

I  had  fought  against  our  love;  but  Parnell  would 
not  fight,  and  I  was  alone.  I  had  urged  my  children 
and  his  work;  but  he  answered  me:  "For  good  or  ill, 
I  am  your  husband,  your  lover,  your  children,  your 
all.  And  I  will  give  my  life  to  Ireland,  but  to  you  I 
give  my  love,  whether  it  be  your  heaven  or  your  hell. 
It  is  destiny.  When  I  first  looked  into  your  eyes  I 
knew." 

When  Willie  arrived  so  suddenly  at  Eltham  ]Mr.  Par- 
nell was  not  there,  but  Willie  went  into  his  room,  and 
finding  his  portmanteau,   sent  it   to  London,   and   left 

176 


HOBBIES  AND  A  CHALLENGE 

my  house,  declaring  he  would  challenge  Parnell  to  fight 
a  duel  and  would  shoot  him. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,"  wrote  Parnell  from  Lon- 
don on  the  7th  of  January,  "will  you  kindly  ask  Cap- 
tain O'Shea  where  he  left  my  luggage.^  I  inciuired  at 
both  parcel  office,  cloak-room,  and  this  hotel  at  Char- 
ing Cross  to-day,  and  they  were  not  to  be  found." 

Willie  later  challenged  Parnell,  sending  The  O*  Gor- 
man Mahon  to  him  as  his  second;  but  the  duel  was 
not  fought.  My  sister,  Mrs.  Steele,  came  down  to  see 
me,  and  patched  up  a  peace  between  myseh  and  Willie; 
and  Mr.  Parnell.  while  making  arrangements  to  go 
abroad  to  meet  Willie,  explained  to  him  that  he  (Par- 
nell) must  have  a  mediiun  of  communication  between 
the  Government  and  himself,  that  Mrs.  O'Shea  had 
kindly  undertaken  the  office  for  him,  and,  as  this  would 
render  negotiations  possible  and  safe,  he  trusted  that 
Wilhe  would  make  no  objection  to  his  meeting  her  after 
the  duel. 

"I  replied  to  Captain  O'Shea's  note  yesterday,'' 
writes  Parnell,  "and  sent  my  reply  by  a  careful  mes- 
senger to  the  Sahsbury  Club;  and  it  must  be  waiting 
him  there. 

"He  has  just  written  me  a  very  insulting  letter,  and 
I  shall  be  obliged  to  send  a  friend  to  him  if  I  do  not 
have  a  satisfactory  reply  to  a  second  note  I  have  just 
sent  him." 

Willie  then  thought  he  had  been  too  hasty  in  his 
action,  and,  knowing  I  had  become  immersed  in  the 
Irish  cause,  merely  made  the  condition  that  Mr.  Par- 
nell should  not  stay  at  Eltham. 

From  the  date  of  this  bitter  quarrel  Parnell  and  I 
were  one,  without  further  scruple,  without  fear,  and  with- 
out remorse. 

177 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

The  following  are  "cypher"  letters  of  private  mes- 
sages to  me  bearing  upon  the  matter  of  the  threatened 
duel :  — 

Juhj  20,  1881. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  Just  a  line  to  say  that  I  am  very 
well  and  wondering  when  I  shall  see  you  again. 

I  hope  that  your  cold  is  better.  —  Yours  very  truly, 

Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

House  of  Commons, 
Thursday  night,  July  22,  1881. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  have  received  both  your  very 
kind  letters  quite  safely,  and  am  looking  forward  to  seeing  you 
somewhere  or  somehow  to-morrow. 

I  am  very  much  troubled  at  everything  you  have  to  under- 
go, and  trust  that  it  will  not  last  long.  —  Yours  always, 

CiiAS.  S.  Parnell. 

I  am  still  quite  well.     Thank  you  very  much  for  enclosure. 

Westminster  Palace  Hotel, 

Victoria  Street,  London,  S.  W., 

Sunday  evening,  July  25,  1881. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  write  to  ask  you  to  send  my 
travelling  cap,  if  it  is  at  Eltham,  to  me  here,  as  I  may  have 
to  go  over  to  Paris  or  Boulogne  some  day  this  week. 

I  hope  your  eyes  are  quite  well  again  and  that  you  are 
enjoying  these  cool  times. 

I  have  been  very  lonely  all  to-day  and  yesterday.  Have 
not  seen  anyone  that  I  know.  —  Yours  always, 

Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

July  26,  1881. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  am  still  staying  at  the  same 
address,  and  have  postponed  going  to  France,  so  you  need  not 
send  my  cap.  —  Yours  always,  Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

178 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ASTRONOMY   AND    "  SEDITION" 

" —  and  there  is  one  stirring  hour  .  .  .  when  a  wakeful  influence 
goes  abroad  over  the  sleeping  hemisphere.  .  .  .  Do  the  stars  rain  down 
an  influence?" 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

During  his  leisure  moments  at  Eltham  Mr.  Parnell 
took  up  the  study  of  astronomy  with  the  vigour  that 
always  characterised  him  when  he  was  interested  in  a 
subject.  He  had  picked  out  from  my  bookshelf  a  book 
of  stars  —  one  of  Sir  Robert  Ball's,  I  believe,  that  I 
had  bought  at  random  one  day,  and  became  at  once 
interested.  From  the  teaching  of  an  old  friend  of  my 
father's  I  had  a  fairly  good  knowledge  of  astronomy, 
and,  though  by  no  means  well  up  in  the  latest  research 
and  discoveries,  I  was  able  to  tell  him  much  of  the  stellar 
systems  that  was  new  to  him.  Finding  how  he  de- 
voured the  little  book  of  Sir  Robert  Ball's,  I  got  several 
of  the  latter's  interesting  works  for  him,  besides  Her- 
schel's. 

Then  Mr.  Parnell  told  me  of  a  magnificent  telescope 
he  had  at  Avondale,  and  sent  for  it.  When  this  arrived 
he  sent  for  a  few  sacks  of  Portland  cement,  with  which 
he  made  a  pedestal  in  my  garden,  and  himself  mounted 
the  telescope  upon  it.  He  made  an  ingenious  arrange- 
ment whereby  the  slightest  touch  would  tilt  the  tele- 
scope to  the  desired  angle,  and  we  spent  many  nights, 
he  and  I,  watching  the  stars  and  following  the  courses 

179 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

of  the  planets  till  they  faded  in  the  dawn.  Then  he 
thought  of  how  near  to  us  was  the  Observatory  at  Green- 
wich, and  got  a  permit  to  go  over  the  Observatory. 
After  that,  on  the  days  when  my  aunt  had  her  readers 
with  her,  I  used  to  accompany  him  to  the  Observatory, 
where  we  spent  many  hours. 

He  could  always  absorb  very  quickly  any  knowledge 
that  appealed  to  him,  and  he  soon  had  the  pleasure  of 
teaching  me  much  about  the  latest  discoveries,  and 
about  a  subject  intensely  interesting  to  him  —  the  won- 
derful way  in  which  the  telescopes  used  in  the  great 
observatories  of  the  world  are  made. 

In  time  this  study  of  the  stars  began  to  worry  him 
too  much,  and  he  reluctantly  gave  up  all  serious  work 
on  the  subject.  He  said  it  was  all  too  immense  and 
absorbing  to  think  about  in  a  life  that  was  primarily 
concerned  with  politics.  But  the  pedestal  remained, 
and  still  we  occasionally  mounted  the  telescope  and  kept 
vigil  with  the  stars  through  the  summer  night. 

On  April  7th,  1881,  Mr.  Gladstone  had  introduced 
his  Land  Bill  into  the  House  of  Commons.  It  was  a 
better  Bill  than  the  Irish  Party  had  reason  to  expect, 
but  it  had  grave  defects,  and  the  Irish  had  not  been 
consulted;  while  the  Government's  policy  of  coercion 
and  Forster's  attitude  towards  Parnell  and  his  followers 
made  co-operation  between  the  Liberals  and  the  Irish 
impossible.  Parnell's  policy  was  to  hold  aloof  and  press 
for  amendments.  After  being  crippled  in  the  House  of 
Lords  the  Bill  became  law.  At  a  Land  League  Con- 
vention held  in  Dublin  on  September  14th  a  resolution 
was  adopted,  on  the  suggestion  of  Parnell,  that  the  Act 
should  be  tested  by  selected  cases.  "Nothing,"  said 
Parnell,  "could  be  more  disastrous  to  our  cause  or  our 

180 


ASTRONOMY  AND  "SEDITION" 

organisation,  and  to  j^our  hopes  of  getting  your  rents 
reduced,  than  an  indiscriminate  rush  of  the  tenantry 
into  the  Land  Courts." 

A  few  days  later  Parnell  was  drawn  in  triumph  through 
the  streets  of  Dubhn.  The  same  day  Forster  wTote  to 
Gladstone  suggesting  that  Parnell  should  be  arrested 
under  the  Coercion  Act. 

He  suggested,  moreover,  that  in  his  next  speech  at 
Leeds,  on  October  7th,  Mr.  Gladstone  should  impeach 
Parnell  and  his  policy.  Gladstone  obeyed.  The  people 
of  Ireland,  he  cried,  wished  to  use  the  Land  Act  and 
Parnell  would  not  let  them,  but  "the  resources  of  civili- 
sation were  not  yet  exhausted." 

Parnell  retorted  with  passion  and  scorn  in  his  famous 
Wexford  speech  delivered  on  October  9th. 

"You  have,"  he  said,  "gained  something  by  your 
exertions  during  the  last  twelve  months,  but  I  am  here 
to-day  to  tell  you  that  you  have  gained  but  a  fraction 
of  that  to  which  you  are  justly  entitled.  And  the  Irish- 
man who  thinks  that  he  can  now  throw  away  his  arms, 
just  as  Grattan  disbanded  the  volunteers  in  1782,  will 
find  to  his  sorrow  and  destruction,  when  too  late,  that 
he  has  placed  himself  in  the  power  of  a  perfidious,  cruel, 
unrelenting  English  enemy. 

"^It  is  a  good  sign  that  this  masquerading  knight- 
errant,  this  pretended  champion  of  the  liberties  of  every 
other  nation  except  those  of  the  Irish  nation,  should 
be  obliged  to  throw  off  the  mask  to-day  and  to  stand 
revealed  as  the  man  who,  by  his  own  utterances,  is  pre- 
pared to  carry  fire  and  sword  into  your  homesteads  un- 
less you  humble  and  abase  yourselves  before  him  and 
before  the  landlords  of  this  country.  But  I  have  for- 
gotten. I  had  said  that  he  had  maligned  everybody. 
Oh,  no;  he  has  a  good  word  for  one  or  two  people.     He 

181 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

says  that  the  late  Mr.  Isaac  Butt  was  a  most  amiable 
man  and  a  true  patriot.  In  the  opinion  of  an  English 
statesman  no  man  is  good  in  Ireland  until  he  is  buried 
and  unable  to  strike  a  blow  for  Ireland,  and  perhaps 
the  day  may  come  when  I  may  get  a  good  word  from 
English  statesmen  as  a  moderate  man  when  I  am  dead 
and  buried. 

"When  people  talk  of  public  plunder  they  should 
first  ask  themselves  and  recall  to  mind  who  were  the 
first  public  plunderers  in  Ireland.  The  land  of  Ireland 
has  been  confiscated  three  times  over  by  the  men  whose 
descendants  Mr.  Gladstone  is  supporting  in  the  fruits 
of  their  plunder  by  his  bayonets  and  buckshot.  Oh, 
yes;  but  we  can  say  a  little  more  than  that,  too;  we  can 
say,  or  at  all  events  if  we  don't  say  it  others  will  say  it, 
that  the  doctrine  of  public  plunder  is  only  a  question 
of  degree.  Who  was  it  that  first  sanctioned  this  doc- 
trine of  public  plunder.^  will  be  asked  by  some  persons. 
I  am  proceeding  in  the  demand  that  the  improvements 
of  the  tenants  —  and  their  predecessors  in  title  —  shall 
be  theirs,  no  matter  how  long  ago  they  may  have  been 
made.  I  am  proceeding  upon  the  lines  of  an  amend- 
ment in  the  Land  Act  of  1881,  which  was  introduced 
by  Mr.  Healy,  framed  by  Mr.  Gladstone's  Attorney- 
General  for  Ireland,  and  sanctioned  by  Mr.  Gladstone, 
his  whole  Cabinet,  the  House  of  Commons,  and  the 
House  of  Lords,  and  I  say  that  it  is  a  question  of  degree 
if  you  extend  that  limit  of  twenty  years,  within  which 
period  the  improvements  of  the  tenants  have  been  pro- 
tected by  the  legislature,  to  that  period,  no  matter  how 
long,  within  which  those  improvements  have  been  made. 

"So  that  if  we  are  to  go  into  this  question  the  utmost 
that  Mr.  Gladstone  and  the  Liberal  Party  will  be  able 
to  make  out  of  it  will  be  to  find  that  there  are  some 

182 


ASTRONOMY  AND  "SEDITION" 

persons  very  much  better  entitled  to  call  him  a  little 
robber  than  he  is  to  call  me  a  big  one.  But  I  was  for- 
getting a  point;  he  has  a  good  word  for  Mr.  Shaw.  He 
has  discovered  that  there  are  onlj^  four  or  five  honest 
Irishmen  in  the  country,  and  one  of  these  is  Mr.  Shaw. 
He  blames  me  for  not  having  disapproved  of  what  he 
calls  the  dynamite  policy.  Well,  I  am  not  aware  that 
Mr.  Shaw  has  repudiated  the  dynamite  policy  either; 
but  I'll  tell  you  what  Mr.  Shaw  said,  and  you  must 
bear  in  mind  that,  in  addition  to  speaking  well  of  him 
as  an  honest  Irishman,  Mr.  Gladstone  also  offered  him 
a  situation  as  one  of  the  Land  Commissioners.  Mr. 
Shaw  did  not  repudiate  the  dynamite  policy  any  more 
than  I  did;  but  I'll  tell  you  what  he  did  eighteen  months 
ago  in  the  county  of  Cork.  He  said  that  his  blood 
boiled  whenever  he  saw  a  process-server,  and  that  he 
never  met  one  without  feeling  inclined  to  take  the 
linchpin  out  of  his  car.  Now,  gentlemen,  if  I  said  that 
to  you  to-day  Mr.  Gladstone  would  have  me  in  Kil- 
mainham  before  three  weeks  were  out.  Nay,  more,  if 
I  had  ever  spoken  anything  like  that  Mr.  Gladstone 
would  have  had  me  in  Kilmainham  long  ago. 

"In  one  last  despairing  wail  he  says  that  when  the 
Government  is  expected  to  preserve  the  peace  it  has 
no  moral  force  behind  it.  The  Government  has  no 
moral  force  behind  it  in  Ireland.  The  whole  Irish  people 
are  against  them.  They  have  to  depend  for  their  sup- 
port on  the  self-interest  of  a  very  small  minority  of 
the  people  of  this  country,  and  therefore  they  have  no 
moral  force  behind  them. 

"Mr.  Gladstone,  in  those  few  short  words,  admits 
that  the  English  Government  has  failed  in  Ireland;  he 
admits  the  contention  that  Grattan  and  the  volunteers 

183 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

of  '82  fought  for;  lie  admits  the  contention  that  the 
men  of  '98  lost  their  lives  for;  he  admits  the  contention 
that  O'Connell  argued  for;  he  admits  the  contention 
that  the  men  of  '48  staked  their  all  for;  he  admits  the 
contention  that  the  men  of  'Q5,  after  a  long  period  of 
depression  and  of  apparent  death  of  all  national  life, 
in  Ireland,  cheerfully  faced  the  dungeon  and  the  horrors 
of  penal  servitude  for,  and  admits  the  contention  that 
to-day  you  in  your  over-powering  multitudes  have  re- 
established, and,  please  God,  will  bring  to  a  successful 
and  final  issue,  namety,  that  England's  mission  in  Ire- 
land has  been  a  failure,  and  that  Irishmen  have  estab- 
lished their  right  to  govern  Ireland  by  laws  made  by 
themselves  for  themselves  on  Irish  soil. 

"I  say  it  is  not  in  his  power  to  trample  on  the  aspi- 
rations and  the  rights  of  the  Irish  people  with  no  moral 
force  behind  him.  These  are  very  brave  words  that 
he  uses,  but  it  strikes  me  that  they  have  a  ring  about 
them  like  the  whistle  of  a  schoolboy  on  his  way  through 
a  churchyard  at  night  to  keep  up  his  courage.  He  would 
have  you  to  believe  that  he  is  not  afraid  of  you  because  he 
has  disarmed  you,  because  he  has  attempted  to  disorganise 
you,  because  he  knows  that  the  Irish  nation  is  to-day  dis- 
armed, so  far  as  physical  weapons  go.  But  he  does  not  hold 
this  kind  of  language  with  the  Boers.     .     .     . " 

"Suppose  they  arrest  you,  Mr.  Parnell,"  asked  an 
Irish  member,  who  dined  with  the  Leader  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  speech,  "have  you  any  instructions  to  give 
us.'^  Who  will  take  your  place.^^"  "Ah!"  he  said,  de- 
liberately, looking  through  a  glass  of  champagne  which 
he  had  just  raised  to  his  lips.  "Ah,  if  I  am  arrested 
Captain  Moonlight  will  take  my  place."* 

*"  The  Life  of  Parnell,"  by  Barry  O'Brien. 
184 


ASTRONOMY  AND  "SEDITION" 

All  through  1881  Parnell  was  constantly  pajdng  fly- 
ing visits  to  Ireland,  and  also  to  various  parts  of  England, 
working  up  the  "League,"  addressing  meetings  and 
privately  ascertaining  for  himself  how  far  the  temper 
of  the  "reactionaries"  could  be  trusted  to  do  the  work 
he  wished  without  becoming  too  greatly  involved  in  the 
tactics  of  the  "  Invincibles "  proper.  He  came  home 
to  me  now  always  between  the  times  of  his  journey ings 
up  and  down  the  country,  and  if  it  was  not  certain  that 
I  should  be  alone  he  would  write  me  a  formal  though 
friendly  note  or  letter  that  anyone  could  have  been 
shown,  in  which  was  given  some  word  or  sign  that  let 
me  know  a  place  or  time  of  meeting  him,  either  in  Lon- 
don or  nearer  my  home.  On  some  of  these  occasions 
my  duties  to  my  aunt  would  keep  me,  so  that  I  might 
be  an  hour  or  more  late  in  arriving  at  the  place  where 
he  awaited  me;  but  never  once  in  all  those  years  did  he 
once  fail  me  or  leave  the  place  of  appointment  before 
I  came,  even  though  it  might  be  at  the  loss  of  the  mail 
train  to  Ireland,  and  leaving  some  thousands  of  people 
waiting  in  vain  for  the  speech  he  was  too  far  away  to 
make.  Sometimes  I  would  become  conscience-stricken 
on  such  an  occasion,  but  he  would  oidy  comment  that 
one  speech  more  or  less  was  a  little  matter,  and  what 
was  lost  by  a  speech  not  made  was  amply  compensated 
for  by  the  deepened  impression  of  his  mystery  and  power 
gained  by  the  people.  "For  it  is  the  strange  thing  I 
found  out  early  in  political  life,"  he  would  say,  "they 
think  I'm  much  more  wonderful  when  I  do  nothing 
than  when  I'm  working  hard." 

Saturday  evening,  August  1,  1881, 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  had  arranged  to  go  to  a  meet- 
ing at  Durham  to-day,  but  was  unable  to  do  so  at  the  last 
moment. 

185 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

I  think  you  have  some  books  of  mine  at  Eltham,  which  I 
propose  going  down  to  look  for  on  Monday,  about  eleven  or 
twelve,  unless  I  hear  from  you  that  you  can  find  them  for  me. 
—  Yours  very  truly,  Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

Please  reply  to  House  of  Commons,  where  I  shall  call  for 
my  letters  on  Monday  morning. 

Augusta,  1881. 

I  have  been  rendered  very  anxious  by  not  receiving  any 
news  from  you  to-day,  and  trust  that  nothing  has  happened 
to  you,  and  that  you  are  not  ill. 

I  had  a  very  satisfactory  conversation  yesterday,  and 
things  look  much  straighter.  —  Yours  truly,  C. 

House  of  Commons, 

August  19, 1881. 
I  arrived  home  quite  right,   and  am  very  much  pleased 
to  learn  this  evening  that  you  have  good  hopes.  — >  Yours 
always,  C. 

Morrison's  Hotel,  Dublin, 

September  10,  1881. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  Will  you  kindly  address  and  post 
enclosed.'* 

I  am  quite  recovered  from  my  attack,  and  the  doctor  says 
that  I  shall  be  able  to  travel  in  a  few  days.  —  Yours  very 
truly, 

Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

The  enclosure  was  the  following  letter:  — 

Morrison's  Hotel,  Dublin, 

September  10,  1881. 
My  own  Wifie,  —  I  know  that  you  must  have  been  much 
worried  yesterday  by  my  failure  to  send  you  a  few  words,  but 
my  Beauty  will  forgive  her  own  husband. 

186 


ASTRONOMY  AND  "SEDITION" 

Your  wire  has  been  put  into  my  hand  as  I  write,  and  shall 
have  an  instant  answer. 

It  gives  me  so  much  pleasure  to  know  that  your  trouble  has  not 
returned  since  I  left,  and  that  my  wires  give  you  pleasure.  Your 
King  thinks  very  very  often  of  his  dearest  Queen,  and  wishes  her 
not  to  be  sad,  but  to  try  and  be  happy  for  his  sake.  Everything 
is  going  on  very  well  here,  and  your  King  is  much  satisfied. 

Morrison's  Hotel,  Dublin, 

September  25,  1881. 
My  OWN  Loveliest,  —  I  send  you  these  few  words  to  assure 
Wifie  that  her  husband  always  thinks  of  her  and  hopes  that 
she  is  well  and  happy.  Your  Own  King. 

October  4,  1881. 
My  own  Wifie,  —  I  have  satisfied  myself,  by  two  separate 
tests  to-day,  that  there  is  a  good  deal  of  silver  in  the  dark  stone 
of  which  there  is  so  much  in  the  old  mine.  In  fact  nearly  the 
whole  lode  consists  of  this  (the  miners  are  working  in  it  in 
the  North  Level).  I  cannot  say  how  many  ounces  there  will 
be  to  the  ton  until  I  get  it  assayed,  but  if  there  should  be  six 
or  eight  ounces  to  the  ton  it  ought  to  pay  to  work. 

Your  Own  King. 

Morrison's  Hotel,  Dublin, 

October  7,  1881. 

My  ow^n  Wifie,  —  I  called  to-day  to  see  him*  on  my 
return  from  Dungarvan,  but  he  was  out,  and  I  waited  for  him 
three  hours.  Calling  again  at  eleven  to-night,  he  was  again 
out,  but  returned  just  as  I  was  writing  to  make  an  appoint- 
ment for  the  morning.  He  says  that  he  leaves  to-morrow 
(Friday)  evening,  and  stops  to  shoot  on  Saturday  in  Wales, 
and  goes  on  Tuesday  to  Paris  to  see  the  Papal  Nuncio,  who 
he  says  has  requested  him  to  come.  This,  then,  is  the  last 
letter  I  can  send  you  for  the  present  through  Eltham,  so  I  hope 
to  have  the  other  address  from  you  to-morrow  morning. 

*Captain  O'Shea. 
187 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

My  dearest  Katie  must  have  been  very  lonely  ever  since. 
Did  she  get  my  three  letters?  Her  husband  has  been  so  busy 
he  has  not  even  had  time  to  sleep,  but  he  has  never  been  too 
busy  to  think  of  her. 

I  can  go  over  to  London  early  next  week  if  I  may  see  you. 
Should  I  remain  in  London  or  go  down  to  you? 

With  numerous  kisses  to  my  beautiful  Queenie. 

C.  S.  P. 

October  8,   1881. 

My  dearest  little  Wifie,  —  Your  husband  has  been  very 
good  since  he  left  you,  and  is  longing  to  see  you  again.  He 
has  kept  his  eyes,  thought,  and  love  all  for  you,  and  my  sweetest 
love  may  be  assured  that  he  always  will. 

To-morrow  I  go  to  Avondale,  thence  to  Wexford  on  Sun- 
day, whence  I  return  Monday  morning  and  hope  to  be  with 
my  Queenie  on  Tuesday  or  Wednesday  at  latest. 

Everything  in  Dublin  has  been  settled  up  pretty  satis- 
factorily, and  I  trust  only  to  have  to  make  an  occasional 
appearance  in  Ireland  during  the  rest  of  the  autumn  and 
winter.  Always  Your  King. 

On  October  11th,  Forster  crossed  to  England,  hav- 
ing first  arranged  with  Sir  Thomas  Steele,  Commander- 
in-Chief  in  Ireland,  that,  should  the  Cabinet  agree  to 
arrest  Parnell,  Forster  would  wire  the  one  word  "Pro- 
ceed." 

The  same  day  Parnell  returned  to  Avondale,  and  on 
the  next  night  was  back  in  Dublin. 

Morrison's    Hotel, 

October  11,  1881. 

My  own  Katie,  —  I  found  two  letters  and  two  wires  from 

your  King's  Queen  here  on  my  arrival  an  hour  ago.     Your 

telegram  this  morning  took  a  great  weight  off  my  mind,  as 

your  silence  made  me  almost  panic-stricken  lest  you  had  been 

hurt  by  that and  had  not  been  able  to  get  to  town. 

188 


ASTRONOMY  AND  "SEDITION" 

To-morrow  I  go  to  Kildare,*  and  shall  try  and  start  for 
London  Friday  morning;  but  I  cannot  be  sure  of  this,  as 
"something"t  may  turn  up  at  the  last  moment,  and  there  is 
also  a  meeting  of  the  Executive  on  Saturday,  which  they  want 
me  to  stay  for. 

However,  Wifie  knows  I  will  do  the  best  I  can,  and  she 
will  get  a  wire  from  me  on  Friday,  soon  after  or  as  soon  as 
she  receives  this,  telling  her  what  I  have  done.  If  I  arrive 
London  Fric^ay  night  shall  go  to  same  hotel  and  shall  wait  for 
miy  darling. 

Will  she  mind  asking  for  my  number.? 

Always  Your  Own  King. 

*He  was  to  have  addressed  a  meeting  at  Naas. 
fPossibility  of  arrest. 


189 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE   ARREST   OF   PARNELL 

"  Beyond  the  hills,  beyond  the  sea, 
0  Love,  my  love,  come  back  to  me. 
And  bring  me  back  yon  summer's  day." 

Lady  Lindsay. 

On  October  12th,  1881,  I  was  in  London  on  Mr.  Par- 
nell's  business  —  to  ascertain  the  movements  of  the  Gov- 
ernment. He,  of  course,  was  in  Ireland  and  had  warned 
me  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  keep  out  of 
prison  much  longer,  and  that  any  further  effort  to  avoid 
arrest  would  be  inexpedient  on  all  counts.  I  was  much 
depressed  about  this  and  urged  him  to  put  it  off  as  long 
as  possible. 

My  health  was  then  delicate,  and  I  felt  an  unreason- 
able fear  and  loneliness  when  he  was  away  from  me. 
He  was  very  tender  and  considerate  to  me,  but  pointed 
out  that  the  turmoil  and  rebellion  he  had  brought  to  a 
head  in  Ireland  must  be  very  carefully  handled  to  be 
productive  of  ultimate  good,  and  that  he  could  "mark 
time"  with  the  Land  League  better  in  Kilmainham  than 
out,  thus  rendering  this  force  more  useful  to  the  Home 
Rule  campaign  and  less  wanton  in  destruction.  Par- 
nell  used,  but  never  abused,  the  weapons  of  political 
strife  he  forged. 

He  desired  immediate  information  of  the  decision  of 
the  Government  to  arrest  him,  that  he  might  destroy 
any  papers  that,  found  on  him,  might  frustrate  his  plans 

190 


THE  ARREST  OF  PARNELL 

and  cause  unnecessary  difficulty  to  those  working  with 
him.  So  when  on  October  12th  information  was  sent 
to  me,  at  the  house  where  I  waited  in  London  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Piccadilly,  that  a  Cabinet  Coun- 
cil had  been  hurriedly  summoned,  I  wired  in  code  to 
Parnell,  and  directly  after  the  Cabinet  Council  I  was 
able  to  inform  him  that  Forster  had  left  for  Ireland 
with  the  warrant  for  his  arrest. 

I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  his  arrest,  and  after 
writing  to  him  under  cover  to  a  person  in  Ireland  who 
would,  I  knew,  get  my  letter  to  him,  whether  in  or  out 
of  prison,  I  telegraphed  to  Parnell  again  to  know  if  he 
could  meet  me  at  Holyhead  if  I  started  at  once.  I  had 
so  much  of  his  business  in  hand  now,  and  he  had  ex- 
pected to  see  me  at  least  once  more  before  the  inevitable 
separation  of  his  imprisonment.  I  felt  almost  unable 
to  cope  with  the  situation;  I  was  not  strong  and  I  was 
full  of  anxiety  as  to  the  probable  effects  upon  Parnell's 
health  of  life  in  Kilmainham  Gaol.  In  addition  to  my 
anxiety,  the  deception  I  had  to  practise  towards  Captain 
O'Shea,  seldom  as  I  saw  him,  told  upon  my  nerves  just 
now.  However,  Parnell's  message  in  reply,  written  in 
our  private  code,  reassured  me.  While  he  still  thought 
it  better  to  suffer  arrest  at  once,  he  would  not  go  out  of 
his  way  to  meet  it,  and  would  be  careful  when  in  Kil- 
mainham so  that  his  imprisonment  should  be  of  short 
duration.  He  would  not  allow  me  to  go  to  the  fatigue 
of  a  journey  to  Holyhead,  nor  would  he  go  abroad  to 
avoid  arrest,  and  I  went  home  comforting  myself  as  I 
could  with  his  confident  spirit  and  loving  messages. 

On  October  13th  there  was  a  terrible  gale  through- 
out the  South  of  England,  and  at  Eltham,  after  a  sleep- 
less night,  I  was  up  early  —  far  too  early  to  disturb 
my  old  aunt  —  and  wandered  out  through  her  park  in 

191 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARXELL 

the  gale.  The  batthng  with  the  wind  hfted  a  Httle  the 
load  of  restlessness  and  anxiety  as  to  what  was  happen- 
ing in  Ireland  from  my  heart.  The  fierce  wind  blow- 
ing through  my  hair  braced  me  and  cleared  the  "cob- 
webs" from  my  brain,  and,  leaning  against  a  tree  for 
support,  I  watched  the  havoc  of  the  storm  as  the  crim- 
son and  russet  leaves  were  svrirled  across  the  park  from 
the  rookery,  rising  in  places  like  water-spouts  into  the 
air  as  they  met  the  opposing  current  of  wind  in  the  open. 
The  old  trees  bovred  beneath  the  gale  as  though  at  last 
the  weight  of  years  was  too  much  for  them,  and  a  warn- 
ing crash  from  the  one  against  which  I  leant  made  me 
stagger  breathless  into  the  wind  again,  as  a  large  branch 
was  torn  from  it  close  to  the  place  where  I  had  stood. 
In  the  slow-breaking  day  I  fought  my  way  as  far  as 
the  old  house,  and  holding  on  to  the  railings  that  sep- 
arated the  lawns  from  the  park  I  turned  to  look  down 
the  long  elm  avenue.  I  was  a  little  frightened  at  the 
force  of  the  gale,  which  now  seemed  to  be  screaming 
around  me,  and  as  I  looked  towards  the  avenue,  where 
leaves  and  small  branches  were  flying  before  the  wind, 
there  was  a  terrific  crash  and  the  whole  of  one  side  of 
the  avenue  fell,  ripping  and  tearing  till  I  thought  every 
tree  in  the  place  was  coming  down.  Heavy  with  foliage, 
these  old  trees  had  given  in  to  the  fury  of  the  storm, 
and  the  falHng  of  one  upon  another  with  all  the  weight 
of  their  huge  branches  had  completed  the  ruin. 

I  was  with  my  aunt  as  usual  all  that  day,  and  was  glad 
of  the  quiet  and  rest.  The  old  lady  gazed  out  at  the  still 
raging  stormand  told  me  tales  of  heryouth,  while  I  listened 
to  the  voice  I  loved  in  the  wind  outside,  saying  to  me 
again  and  again  what  he  had  said  before  he  left  me,  "Be 
brave,  Queenie.  I  cannot  stay  outside  while  all  these 
others  are  arrested,  and  it  is  bound  to  be  soon  now." 

192 


THE  ARREST  OF  PARNELL 

Towards  evening,  when  the  storm  had  cleared  a  little, 
and  my  aunt  had  fallen  asleep  before  the  fire,  I  went 
home  to  get  the  evening  papers  I  always  had  sent  over 
from  Blackheath  before  Willie  came  down  from  London 
to  dinner,  as  he  had  written  to  say  he  would  do.  How- 
ever, on  my  return  home  I  found  Willie  already  there, 
extremely  pleased  to  be  able  to  announce  to  me  that 
Parnell  had  been  arrested  that  morning.  I  knew  his 
news  directly  I  saw  his  face,  and  as  I  was  really  pre- 
pared for  it  I  did  not  flinch,  but  replied  languidly  that 
I  had  thought  Parnell  "couldn't  keep  out  of  gaol  much 
longer,  didn't  you.^" 

But  Willie  was  so  fiercely  and  openly  joyful  that  my 
maids,  who  were  ardent  Parnellites,  were  much  shocked, 
and  I,  being  terribly  overwrought,  laughed  at  their  dis- 
gusted faces  as  I  went  to  dress  for  dinner.  It  was  really 
the  laugh  of  tears,  but  that  laugh  of  jangled  nerves 
and  misery  did  me  good  service  with  Willie,  and  we 
got  through  dinner  amicably  enough,  while  he  descanted 
upon  the  wickedness  and  folly  of  Parnell's  policy  and 
the  way  the  Irish  question  should  really  be  settled, 
and  would  be  if  it  could  be  left  in  his  hands  and  those 
who  thought  with  him.  He  observed  me  closely,  as 
he  criticised  Parnell  and  his  policy,  and  reiterated  his 
pleasure  in  knowing  he  was  "laid  by  the  heels." 

I  was  now  quite  calm  again,  and  smiled  at  him  as  I 
reminded  him  that  I  was  now  as  ardent  a  Farnellite 
as  Parnell  himself,  and  had  already  done  so  much  hard 
work  for  "the  cause"  that  my  politics  were  far  more 
reactionary  than  when  he  had  introduced  Parnell  to 
me:  unlike  his  (Willie's)  own,  which  were  less  so.  IMy 
heart  being  in  Kilmainham  Gaol  with  my  lover,  I  was 
momentarily  at  peace,  and  could  ask  Willie  questions 
as  to  the  mode  of  life  and  prison  discipline  of   political 

193 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

prisoners.     Willie,  as  are  so  many  men,  was  never  so 
happy  as  wlien  giving  information. 

The  next  day  I  received  my  King's  letter,  written  as 
he  was  arrested :  — 

Morrison's  Hotel,  Dublin, 

October  13,1881  • 

My  own  Queenie,  —  I  have  just  been  arrested  by  two  fine- 
looking  detectives,  and  write  these  words  to  wifie  to  tell  her 
that  she  must  be  a  brave  little  woman  and  not  fret  after  her 
husband. 

The  only  thing  that  makes  me  worried  and  unhappy  is 
that  it  may  hurt  you  and  our  child. 

You  know,  darling,  that  on  this  account  it  will  be  wicked 
of  you  to  grieve,  as  I  can  never  have  any  other  wife  but  you, 
and  if  anything  happens  to  you  I  must  die  childless.  Be  good 
and  brave,  dear  little  wifie,  then.  Your  Own  Husband. 

Politically  it  is  a  fortunate  thing  for  me  that  I  have  been 
arrested,  as  the  movement  is  breaking  fast,  and  all  will  be 
quiet  in  a  few  months,  when  I  shall  be  released. 

Speaking  at  the  Guildhall  on  the  day  of  Parnell's 
arrest  Mr.  Gladstone  said:  "Within  these  few  minutes 
I  have  been  informed  that  towards  the  vindication  of 
the  law,  of  order,  of  the  rights  of  property,  and  the 
freedom  of  the  land,  of  the  first  elements  of  political 
life  and  civilisation,  the  first  step  has  been  taken  in  the 
arrest  of  the  man  who  has  made  himself  pre-eminent  in 
the  attempt  to  destroy  the  authority  of  the  law,  and 
substitute  what  would  end  in  being  nothing  more  than 
anarchical  oppression  exercised  upon  the  people  of  Ire- 
land." 

Wlien  he  uttered  the  word  "arrest"  he  was  stopped 
by  the  audience  rising  en  masse  and  cheering  frantically. 
"Parnell's   arrest"  —  I   quote   from   the   "Life   of  For- 

194 


THE  ARREST  OF  PARNELL 

ster"^ — "was  hailed  almost  as  though  it  had  been  the 
news  of  a  signal  victory  gained  by  England  over  a  hated 
and  formidable  enemy." 

Sexton,  O'Kelly,  Dillon,  O'Brien,  and  J.  P.  Quinn, 
secretary  of  the  League,  were  quickly  arrested,  while 
warrants  were  issued  for  Biggar,  Healy,  and  Arthur 
O'Connor.  Healy  was  in  England,  and  Biggar  and 
O'Connor  managed  to  join  him  there. 


195 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

KILMAINHAM    DAYS 

"Love  is  not  a  flower  that  grows  on  the  dull  earth; 
Springs  by  the  calendar;  must  wait  for  the  sun. 

E'en  ivhile  you  look  the  peerless  floiver  is  up 
Consummate  in  the  birth.''  —  J.  S.  Knowles. 

At  the  news  of  the  arrest  a  wave  of  indignation  swept 
through  Ireland.  In  Dubhn  there  were  riots.  In  rasiny 
places  shops  were  closed  and  towns  and  villages  went 
into  mourning  as  if  for  the  death  of  a  king. 

Five  days  later  the  Land  League  countered  the  ar- 
rest by  issuing  the  No  Rent  manifesto. 

Parnell  was  really  opposed  to  it,  Dillon  openly  so, 
but  the  majority  of  the  leaders  then  in  Kilmainham 
Gaol  approved  of  it,  and  it  was  signed  and  published 
in  United  Ireland  on  October  17th.  The  signature  is 
interesting,  it  runs  thus:  — 

"Charles  S.  Parnell,  President,  Kilmainham  Gaol; 
A.  J.  Kettle,  Honorary  Secretary,  Kilmainham  Gaol; 
Michael  Davitt,  Honorary  Secretary,  Portland  Prison; 
Thomas    Brennan,    Honorary    Secretary,    Kilmainham 

Gaol; 
Thomas    Geston,    Head   Organiser,    Kilmainham    Gaol; 
Patrick  Egan,  Treasurer,  Paris." 

Meanwhile  arrests  and  evictions  went  on  all  over 
Ireland,  and  the  Coercion  Act  was  used  mercilessly  and 
unscrupulously   on   behalf   of   the    landlords.     The   La- 

138 


KILMAINHAM  DAYS 

dies'  Land  League  and  its  president,  Miss  Anna  Parnell, 
became  very  busy. 

******  ^ 

From  the  time  of  Parnell's  arrest  onward  until  the 
birth  of  his  child  in  the  following  February  I  lived  a 
curiously  subconscious  existence;  pursuing  the  usual 
routine  of  my  life  at  home  and  with  my  aunt,  but  feel- 
ing that  all  that  was  of  life  in  me  had  gone  with  my  lover 
to  prison,  and  only  came  back  to  me  in  the  letters  that 
were  my  only  mark  of  time.  I  had  to  be  careful  now; 
Willie  became  solicitous  for  my  health,  and  wished  to 
come  to  Eltham  more  frequently  than  I  would  allow. 
He  thought  February  would  seal  our  reconciliation,  where- 
as I  knew  it  would  cement  the  cold  hatred  I  felt  towards 
him,  and  consummate  the  love  I  bore  my  child's  father. 

October  14,  1881. 

My  own  dearest  Wifie, —  I  have  found  a  means  of  com- 
municating with  you,  and  of  your  communicating  in  return. 

Please  put  your  letters  into  enclosed  envelope,  first  putting 
them  into  an  inner  envelope,  on  the  joining  of  which  you 
can  write  your  initials  with  a  similar  pencil  to  mine,  and  they 
will  reach  me  all  right. 

I  am  very  comfortable  here,  and  have  a  beautiful  room 
facing  the  sun  —  the  best  in  the  prison.  There  are  three  or  four 
of  the  best  of  the  men  in  adjoining  rooms  with  whom  I  can 
associate  all  day  long,  so  that  time  does  not  hang  heavy  nor  do 
I  feel  lonely.  My  only  fear  is  about  my  darling  Queenie.  I 
have  been  racked  with  torture  all  to-day,  last  night,  and 
yesterday,  lest  the  shock  may  have  hurt  you  or  our  child. 
Oh,  darling,  write  or  wire  me  as  soon  as  you  get  this  that  you 
are  well  and  will  try  not  to  be  unhappy  until  you  see  your 
husband  again.     You  may  wire  me  here. 

I  have  your  beautiful  face  with  me  here;  it  is  such  a  com- 
fort.    I  kiss  it  every  m.orning.  Your  King. 

197 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

KiLMAINHAM, 

Odoher  17,  1881. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  was  very  much  pleased  to 
receive  your  two  letters,  which  reached  me  safely  after  having 
been  duly  perused  by  the  Governor.  I  am  also  writing  to 
Captain  O'Shea's  Paris  address  to  acknowledge  his. 

The  last  letter  which  you  directed  to  Morrison's  also  reached  me. 

If  you  have  not  done  so  already,  please  inquire  in  London 
about  the  messages  you  were  expecting,  and  about  any  others 
that  may  arrive  in  future,  and  let  me  know  in  your  next 
whether  you  have  received  them. 

This  prison  is  not  at  all  damp,  although  the  air  on  the 
north  side  is  rather  so,  but  I  am  on  the  south  side,  and  am 
so  far  exceedingly  comfortable  and  not  in  the  slightest  degree 
dull.  We  are  allowed  to  play  ball,  and  you  will  be  glad  to 
hear  that  I  won  my  first  game  against  one  of  the  best  and 
most  practised  players  in  the  place,  although  I  have  not  played 
for  twenty  years. 

I  have  received  the  Times,  Engineer,  Engineering,  Mining 
Journal,  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  Universe,  from  a  London  ofiice, 
also  the  Engineer  directed  in  your  handwriting. 

Shall  be  delighted  to  hear  from  you  as  often  as  you  care  to 
write.  —  Yours  always,  C.  S.  P. 

When  you  write  again  please  let  me  know  how  you  are.  I 
have  been  very  anxious  for  news  on  that  point. 

October  19,  1881. 
My  own  darling  Queenie,  —  I  have  just  received  your 
charming  little  letter  of  Tuesday,  which  I  have  been  anxiously 
expecting  for  the  last  week.  It  has  taken  an  enormous  load 
off  my  mind.  I  shall  send  you  a  long  letter  to-morrow  or  next 
day,  but  for  the  present  you  had  better  not  come  over,  as 
there  are  five  or  six  other  men  in  rooms  adjacent  to  mine  who 
find  out  about  everybody  who  visits  me.  Besides,  you  would 
not  be  permitted  to  see  me  except  in  presence  of  two  warders, 
and  it  might  only  make  you  more  unhappy. 

198 


KILMAINHAM  DAYS 

You  must  not  be  alarmed  about  rumours  that  the  Govern- 
ment have  evidence  that  we  are  involved  in  a  treasonable 
conspiracy.  There  is  absolutely  no  foundation  whatever  for 
such  a  statement,  and  it  is  only  made  to  defend  their  own 
proceedings. 

Dearest  little  Queenie,  keep  up  your  spirits.  I  am  very 
comfortable  and  very  well,  and  expect  to  see  my  darling  before 
the  New  Year. 

Don't  put  my  name  in  inner  envelope  in  future,  as  if  opened 
it  might  impHcate  others. 

October  21,  1881. 

My  own  darling  Wifie,  —  I  wrote  you  a  short  note  this 
afternoon,  which  I  succeeded  in  getting  off  safely.  Now  after 
we  have  been  all  locked  up  safely  for  the  night,  and  when 
everything  is  quiet  and  I  am  alone,  I  am  going  to  send  my 
own  Queenie  some  news.  But  first  I  must  tell  you  that  I  sleep 
exceedingly  well,  and  am  allowed  to  read  the  newspapers  in 
bed  in  the  morning,  and  breakfast  there  also,  if  I  wish. 

I  want,  however,  to  give  you  a  little  history  from  the  com- 
mencement of  my  stay  here. 

When  I  heard  that  the  detectives  were  asking  for  me  a  terror 
—  one  which  has  often  been  present  with  me  in  anticipation  — 
fell  upon  me,  for  I  remembered  that  my  darling  had  told  me 
that  she  feared  it  would  kill  her;  and  I  kept  the  men  out  of 
my  room  while  I  was  writing  you  a  few  hasty  words  of  com- 
fort and  of  hope,  for  I  knew  the  shock  would  be  very  terrible 
to  my  sweet  love. 

I  feared  that  I  could  not  post  it,  but  they  stopped  the  cab 
just  before  reaching  the  prison  and  allowed  me  to  drop  the 
letter  into  a  pillar-box.  My  only  torture  during  those  first 
few  days  was  the  unhappiness  of  my  queen.  I  wired  Mrs.  S. 
to  know  how  you  were,  but  the  wire  was  sent  back  with  a  note 
that  it  could  not  be  delivered  as  she  had  gone  to  R.  Finally 
your  first  letter  came,  and  then  I  knew  for  the  first  time  that 
you  were  safe.  You  must  not  mind  my  being  in  the  infirmary. 
I  am  only  there  because  it  is  more  comfortable  than  being 

199 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

in  a  cell,  and  you  have  longer  hours  of  association,  from  8  a.  m. 
to  8  p.  m.,  instead  of  being  locked  up  at  6  and  obliged  to  eat  by 
yourself.  The  infirmary  is  a  collection  of  rooms,  and  each 
has  a  room  to  himself  —  Dillon  is  in  a  cell,  but  he  is  allowed  as 
a  special  privilege  to  come  over  and  associate  with  us  during 
the  daytime.  I  am  obliged  to  invent  little  maladies  for  my- 
self from  day  to  day  in  order  to  give  Dr.  Kenny  an  excuse 
for  keeping  me  in  the  infirmary,  but  I  have  never  felt  better  in 
my  life.  Have  quite  forgotten  that  I  am  in  prison,  and  should 
very  much  miss  the  rattle  of  the  keys  and  the  slam  of  the  doors. 
The  latest  discovery  is  heart  affection. 

The  only  thing  I  don't  like  is  that  the  Government  insist 
upon  sending  a  lot  of  police  into  the  gaol  every  night,  two  of 
whom  sleep  against  my  door  and  two  more  under  my  window. 
Just  at  present  we  are  all  in  great  disgrace  on  account  of  the 
manifesto,  and  the  poor  warders  have  been  most  of  them 
dismissed  and  fresh  ones  brought  in.  A  very  strict  v/atch 
is  kept,  and  I  have  been  obliged  to  exert  my  ingenuity  to  get 
letters  out  to  you  and  to  get  yours  in  return.  If  Wifie  is  very 
good  and  becomes  strong  and  happy  again  I  may  let  her  come 
over  and  see  me  after  a  time,  but  for  five  days  more  I  am  not 
to  be  allowed  to  see  any  visitor,  but  I  will  wTite  you  again 
about  your  coming.  They  have  let  us  off  very  easily.  I  fully 
expected  that  we  should  have  been  scattered  in  different  gaols 
through  the  country  as  a  punishment,  but  they  evidently  think 
no  other  place  safe  enough  for  me.  Indeed,  this  place  is  not 
safe,  and  I  can  get  out  whenever  I  like,  but  it  is  probably  the 
best  policy  to  wait  to  be  released.  And  now  good-night,  my 
own  dear  little  Wifie.  Promise  your  husband  that  you  will 
sleep  well  and  look  as  beautiful  when  we  meet  again  as  the 
last  time  I  pressed  your  sweet  lips.     Your  Own  Husband. 

October  26,  1881. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  Many  thanks  for  your  kind  letter. 
I  am  anxiously  waiting  for  another  note  from  you  to  say 
that  you  have  quite  recovered  from  the  indisposition  you 
speak  of. 

200 


KILMAINHAM  DAYS 

I  was  in  hopes  that  time  would  pass  more  slowly  in  prison 
tlian  outside,  but  it  seems  to  pass  quite  as  quickly  as  any- 
where else  except  those  hours  at  Eltham.  —  Yours  always, 

C.  S.  P. 

October  28,  1881. 
My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  Not  having  heard  from  you  this 
week,  I  write  to  say  that  I  hope  you  are  better,  and  that 
the  absence  of  a  letter  from  you  is  not  to  be  attributed  to 
any  increase  in  the  indisposition  of  which  you  spoke  in  your 
last. 

I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  tell  you  that  I  am  exceedingly 
well.     Health  and  spirits  never  better.  —  Yours  very  truly, 

Chas.  S.  Parnell. 

November  1,  1881. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  Thanks  very  much  for  your 
letters  and  telegram. 

I  was  rather  indisposed  yesterday,  but  am  very  much  better 
to-day.  I  am  told  that  everybody  gets  a  turn  after  they  have 
been  here  for  three  or  four  weeks,  but  that  they  then  become 
all  right.  I  write  you  this  lest  you  and  other  friends  should 
be  troubled  by  exaggerated  reports  in  the  newspapers. 

My  esteemed  friend  Mr.  Forster  has  become  very  disagree- 
able lately.  He  refuses  to  allow  me  to  see  my  solicitor 
except  in  presence  and  hearing  of  two  warders,  so  I  have  de- 
clined to  see  him  at  all.  He  also  refuses  to  allow  me  to  see 
visitors  except  in  the  cage,  which  I  have  also  declined  to  do, 
but  probably  things  may  be  relaxed  again  after  a  time.  — Yours 
very  trulv, 

C.  S.  P. 

Parnell  had  a  certain  visitor  who  was  permitted  to 
see  him  in  Kilmainliam  on  his  "necessary  and  private" 
business,  though  not  alone,  and  this  gentleman  was 
able  to  take  his  letters  out,  and  bring  them  to  him,  un- 

201 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

observed,  and  after  putting  them  into  another  outer 
envelope  address  them  to  "Mrs.  Carpenter"  at  an  ad- 
dress in  London,  whence  I  fetched  them.  Or  sometimes 
he  would  send  a  formal  letter  to  me  at  Eltham  enclos- 
ing one  addressed  to  some  political  or  other  personage. 
If  Willie  were  at  Eltham  I  would  show  him  this  note 
asking  me  to  post  enclosure  on  a  certain  date.  The 
enclosure  was,  of  course,  to  me  —  sent  thus  to  keep  me 
from  the  fatigue  of  going  to  town  so  often.  The  Gov- 
ernor of  Kilmainham  for  some  reason  became  suspicious 
of  Parnell's  visitor,  and  forbade  his  interviews  except  in 
the  close  proximity  of  two  warders  selected  by  him- 
self, and  Parnell  refused  to  see  him  at  all  under  these 
restrictions.  He  wrote  me  a  friendly  letter  then,  tell- 
ing me  this,  and  other  little  news  of  his  prison  life,  as 
to  an  ordinary  acquaintance,  and  addressed  it  direct  to 
Eltham,  sending  it  to  be  approved  by  the  Governor  and 
posted  in  the  ordinary  way.  In  this  letter,  that  any- 
one might  have  seen,  there  was  a  message  by  a  private 
sign  to  go  to  the  house  in  town  for  a  letter  within  a 
few  days.  On  doing  so  I  found  my  letter  as  usual, 
posted  by  a  friendly  warder,  and  contained  in  it  was  a 
recipe  for  invisible  ink,  and  this  ink  could  only  be  "de- 
veloped" by  one  particular  formula,  a  combination  known 
only  to  one  chemist.  We  were  saved  an  infinity  of 
trouble  and  anxiety,  as  we  could  now  write  between  the 
lines  of  an  ordinary  or  typewritten  letter  without  detec- 
tion, and  it  was  no  longer  essential  to  get  a  third  per- 
son to  direct  the  envelopes.  In  time  the  Governor  again 
became  suspicious,  and  the  friendly  warder  was  dismissed 
—  or  Parnell  was  told  so.  However,  this  was  only  a 
temporary  inconvenience,  as  Parnell  was  able  in  a  couple 
of  days  to  reorganise  his  communications  with  me,  and 
this  time  they  were  not  broken. 

202 


KILMAINHAM  DAYS 

Novemher  2,  1881. 

I  have  just  succeeded  in  having  my  communications, 
which  were  cut  for  a  while,  restored,  and  have  received  your 
letter  of  Friday  night.  In  writing  me  please  always  acknowl- 
edge receipt  of  my  letters  by  their  date.  I  have  quite  re- 
covered. My  illness  did  me  good,  and  I  have  a  first-rate 
appetite. 

You  must  not  mind  the  reports  about  my  health.  In  fact, 
our  "  plots  "  have  been  completely  disarranged  by  the  neces- 
sity of  writing  and  wiring  my  Queenie  that  there  is  nothing 
the  matter  with  me. 

I  hope  to  be  able  to  arrange  to  see  you  as  soon  as  I  hear 
that  W.  is  firmly  fixed. 

I  look  at  my  beautiful  Queen's  face  every  night  before  I 
go  to  bed,  and  long  for  the  time  when  I  may  be  with  you  again. 
Only  for  that  I  should  be  happier  here  than  anywhere  else. 

Novemher  5,  1881. 

My  darling  Wifie,  —  When  I  received  your  dear  letter 
to-day  I  had  just  time  to  send  you  a  few  hasty  lines  in  acknowl- 
edgment; now  when  everything  is  quiet  and  with  your  own 
sweet  face  before  me  I  can  give  my  thoughts  up  entirely  to 
my  Queen,  and  talk  to  you  almost  as  well  as  if  you  were  in  my 
arms.  It  seems  to  me  a  long,  long  time  since  our  hasty  good- 
bye, although  the  first  three  weeks  of  my  present  life  —  which 
term  will  have  been  completed  to-morrow  morning  —  has 
seemed  only  a  moment.  I  often  feel  very  sad  when  I  think  of 
poor,  unhappy  Katie  waiting  for  her  husband  who  does  not 
come  any  longer  as  he  used  to  come,  but  who  will  come  again 
to  her  and  will  not  again  leave  her. 

I  am  trying  to  make  arrangements  that  my  own  Queenie 
may  come  to  me  this  time.  I  shall  ask  my  ruler  here  if  I  may 
see  my  cousin,  "Mrs.  Bligh,  who  is  coming  from  England  to 
see  me,"  in  his  office,  and  with  only  himself  present.  After 
all,  darling,  the  only  way  in  which  I  could  have  escaped  being 
here  would  have  been  by  going  to  America,  and  then  I  could 

203 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARXELL 

not  have  seen  you  at  all,  and  I  know  I  should  not  have  been 
so  happy  or  so  comfortable  in  America  as  here,  and,  besides, 
I  should  have  been  beset  by  so  many  dangers  there. 

I  admire  supremely  my  life  of  ease,  laziness,  absence  of 
care  and  responsibility  here.  My  only  trouble  is  about  your 
health  and  happiness,  and  this  has  been  my  only  trouble  from 
the  first.  Queenie,  then,  will  see  that  she  also  must  try  not  to 
be  so  unhappy,  especially  as  her  husband's  love  is  becoming 
stronger  and  more  intense  every  hour  and  every  day. 

You  will  be  anxious  to  know  what  my  short  illness  was 
about.  It  was  of  a  very  unromantic  kind  —  not  the  heart, 
but  the  stomach.  I  had  not  much  appetite  for  some  days, 
and  was  tempted  by  a  turkey  to  eat  too  much,  thence  very 
severe  indigestion  and  considerable  pain  for  about  an  hour. 
However,  "our  doctor,"  by  means  of  mustard  and  chlorodyne, 
got  me  all  right  again,  and  my  appetite  is  now  as  good  as  ever. 
In  fact,  I  have  gotten  over  very  quickly  the  "mal  du  prison" 
which  comes  on  everybody  sooner  or  later  more  or  less 
severely. 

One  of  the  men  in  this  quarter  who  has  been  here  for  nearly 
nine  months,  poor  fellow,  looks  after  me  as  if  he  was  my  — 
brother,  I  was  going  to  say,  but  I  vnl\  substitute  Mary.*  He 
makes  me  a  soda  and  lemon  in  the  morning,  and  then  gives 
me  my  breakfast.  At  dinner  he  takes  care  that  I  get  all  the 
nicest  bits  and  concocts  the  most  perfect  black  coffee  in  a 
"Kaffee  Kanne"  out  of  berries,  which  he  roasts  and  grinds 
fresh  each  day.  Finally,  in  the  evening,  just  before  we  are 
separated  for  the  night,  he  brews  me  a  steaming  tumbler  of 
hot  whisky.  He  has  marked  all  my  clothes  for  me  also,  and 
sees  that  the  washerwoman  does  not  rob  me.  Don't  you 
begin  to  feel  quite  jealous.^ 

I  am  going  to  ask  Katie  to  put  her  proper  initials  upon 
the  inner  envelope  of  her  next  letter  —  thus,  K.  P.  Your 
writing  on  the  outside  envelope  of  the  one  which  came  to-day 
will  do  splendidly. 

I  do  not  think  there  is  the  least  probability  of  my  being 
*My  parlourmaid. 
204 


KILMAIXHAM  DAYS 

moved;  this  is  the  strongest  place  they  have,  and  they  are 
daily  trying  to  increase  its  strength  according  to  their  own 
notions,  which  are  not  very  brilliant.  !My  room  is  very  warm 
and  perfectly  dry.  They  wanted  me  to  go  to  another,  which 
did  not  face  the  sun,  but  I  refused,  so  they  did  not  persist. 

With  a  thousand  kisses  to  my  own  T\'ifie,  and  hoping  soon 
to  lay  my  head  in  its  old  place. 

Good-night,  my  darling. 

November  7,  1881. 

I  did  not  advertise  in  Standard. 

My  D.^JiLiXG  QuEEXiE,  —  Your  two  letters  received,  and 
King  is  very  much  troubled  about  you. 

I  am  very  warm  —  have  fire  and  gas  in  my  room  all  night 
if  I  want  it. 

Dearest  W'ifie  must  try  and  get  back  her  spirits  and  good 
looks  for  her  own  husband's  sake.  C.  S.  P. 

November  12,  ISSl. 

My  darling  Wifie,  —  I  have  received  my  darling's  letter 
of  the  9th  quite  safely,  also  the  enclosure  in  the  previous  one, 
which  I  vrill  keep  as  you  wish  it;  but  I  shall  not  want  it,  my 
own  love. 

The  statement  about  the  food  was  only  to  prepare  the 
way  to  get  up  a  collection  in  the  country  so  as  to  save  the 
American  money  for  other  purposes. 

"We  think  of  announcing  by  and  by  that  we  have  gone 
on  Government  food,  and  then  start  the  subscription,  as  there 
is  no  other  way  of  getting  money  from  the  country.  In  any 
case,  this  could  not  affect  me.  as  I  am  in  the  infirmary,  and 
should  be  entitled  to  get  whatever  Dr.  Kenny  orders  for  me. 
"\Yifie  may  depend  upon  it  that  vdiatever  happens  we  shall 
take  good  care  of  ourselves;  at  present  we  are  livmg  upon 
all  the  good  things  of  the  world  —  game,  etc.  The  authorities 
have  intimated  to  me  twice  that  I  may  go  out  if  I  will  say 
that  I  will  go  abroad,  but  I  have  rephed  that  I  am  not  in  any 

^2Q5 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

hurry,  and  that  when  I  go  out  I  shall  go  or  stay  where  I  please. 
In  fact,  I  much  prefer  to  wait  here  till  the  meeting  of  Parlia- 
ment. 

Will  write  Wifie  a  long  letter  to-morrow. 

Your  Own  King. 

November  14,  1881. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  Your  husband  continues  very  well, 
and  very  much  contented  with  the  position  of  things  outside. 

I  am  told  the  Government  don't  exactly  know  what  to  do 
with  us  now  they  have  got  us,  and  will  take  the  first  decent 
excuse  which  presents  itseK  of  sending  us  about  our  business. 

Queenie's  letters  give  me  great  comfort,  as  I  think  I  see 
by  them  she  is  not  quite  so  unhappy  as  she  was,  and  has  more 
hope  of  seeing  her  King  soon  again.  I  am  in  a  continual  state 
of  alarm,  however,  lest  something  may  hurt  you. 

Always  Your  King. 

Saturday. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  I  hope  my  darling  will  not  hurt  herself 
going  after  those  letters.  I  have  got  some  paper  to  write 
direct  to  you,  and  shall  try  one  on  Monday.  I  do  not  use  it 
for  writing  to  anybody  else,  so  that  Queenie  need  not  be  afraid 
of  that,  but  she  should  write  very  lightly,  and  with  a  gold 
pen. 

My  own  little  Wifie,  I  so  wish  I  could  be  with  you  to  com- 
fort and  take  care  of  you,  but  will  you  not  try  to  care  for 
yourself,  my  darling,  for  my  sake.'^ 

Your  Own  loving  King. 

My  dearest  Queenie,  —  I  write  hastily  to  say  that  I  am 
receiving  your  darling  letters  all  right,  though  the  watch  is 
very  close,  and  it  is  difficult  to  get  them  either  out  or  in. 

I  am  exceedingly  well,  sleep  very  well,  go  to  bed  at  ten  or 
eleven,  or  whenever  I  like,  get  up  at  nine,  or  whenever  I  like. 

Do,  beautiful  Wifie,  take  care  of  yourself  and  your  King's 
child. 

206 


KILMAINHAM  DAYS 

November  18,  1881. 

Use  thinner  letter  paper  in  future,  as  envelopes  are  sus- 
piciously bulky. 

Your  own  King  continues  very  well,  and  has  received  your 
two  letters  safely. 

Our  mutual  friend  is  waiting  Tor  me  at  present,  and  prob- 
ably has  some  more  for  me  and  will  take  this.  I  have  just 
heard  on  good  authority  that  they  intend  to  move  me  to 
Armagh  the  end  of  this  week  or  beginning  of  next  in  order 
to  give  me  an  opportunity  of  escaping  while  there.  How- 
ever, they  may  change  their  mind,  and  in  any  case  it  will 
make  no  difference  to  me  personally.  Armagh  is  healthier 
and  nicer  in  every  way,  I  am  told  by  our  Chief  W.,  who  comes 
from  there.  I  am  also  told,  on  the  same  authority  who  in- 
formed me  of  projected  move  to  Armagh,  that  we  shall  be 
certainly  all  released  before  Christmas. 

I  am  disposed  to  think  I  have  got  heavier,  but  shall  know 
to-morrow  when  I  weigh. 

Best  love  to  our  child.  Your  loving  Husband. 

November  21,  1881. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  Yours  of  the  18th  has  reached  me 
safely,  and  though  I  am  relieved  to  know  that  my  darling  is 
a  little  less  miserable,  yet  I  am  still  very  much  troubled  and 
anxious  about  you.  Has  he*  left  yet.''  It  is  frightful  that 
you  should  be  exposed  to  such  daily  torture.  My  own  Wifie 
must  try  and  strengthen  herself,  and  get  some  sleep  for  her 
husband's  sake  and  for  our  child's  sake,  who  must  be  suffer- 
ing much  also. 

I  am  convinced  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  unfortunate 
result  of  Tyrone  I  should  not  be  here.  I  hope  that  Stafford 
may  be  followed  by  another  success  in  Derry,  and  that  it 
may  open  their  eyes  to  the  danger  of  their  present  proceedings. 
I  can  really  honestly  tell  Wifie  that  my  health  is  not  only  as 
good,  but  better  than  it  has  been  at  any  time  for  the  last 
twelve  months. 

*Captaiii  O'SLea  was  staying  at  Eltham  for  some  days. 
207 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

I  don't  know  who  it  was  sent  me  the  quilt;  I  am  sending 
it  to  Wicklow,  as  it  is  green  —  a  colour  I  detest.  I  don't 
want  it  here  at  all,  as  there  are  too  many  things  on  my  bed 
as  it  is.  Ever  Your  Own  King. 

November  29,  1881. 

The  Woolwich  or  Charlton  post  offices  will  do  very  well 
when  you  recommence  writing. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  I  was  very  happy  in  receiving  my 
darling's  letter  of  yesterday  to-day.  My  messenger  was  look- 
ing very  frightened,  and  fears  his  letters  may  be  opened  any 
day.  So  perhaps  it  will  be  safest  for  Wifie  not  to  write  again 
for  a  few  days,  until  I  see  further,  or  until  I  can  manage  an- 
other address.  I  can  manage,  however,  to  write  my  Queenie 
two  or  three  times  a  week.  You  must  not  be  frightened  if 
you  see  we  have  all  gone  on  P.  F.*  It  will  not  be  so  as  far 
as  we  are  concerned  here,  and  will  only  be  for  a  week  as  regards 
the  others,  but  Wifie  must  not  tell  anybody  that  I  have  not 
done  so,  as  it  would  create  discontent  amongst  the  others. 
The  man  who  has  been  taking  care  of  me  is  going  out  to- 
morrow, and  will  be  a  loss  to  me.  He  has  been  very  ill  during 
the  last  week  from  bad  sore  throat,  and  was  very  nearly  suffo- 
cated the  night  before  last,  so  I  sent  O' Gorman  Mahon  to 
Forster  about  him,  with  the  desired  effect  of  getting  his  dis- 
charge. One  of  the  others  will  supply  his  place  to  me,  but 
not  so  well. 

Have  not  been  weighed  yet,  but  will  to-morrow.  I  think 
Wifie  has  my  last  weight.  After  eight  at  night  I  read  books, 
newspapers,  and  write  until  about  twelve  or  one,  when  I  go 
to  bed.  I  also  think  a  good  deal  of  my  own  darling  during 
that  time  when  everything  is  quiet,  and  wonder  how  soon  I 
shall  be  with  you  again. 

The  time  is  passing  rather  more  slowly  this  month  than 
the  first,  but  still  it  is  not  yet  monotonous. 

With  best  love. 

*Prison  fare. 
208 


KILMAINHAM  DAYS 

Thursday. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  I  have  just  received  your  two  letters, 
one  of  Tuesday,  the  other  25th,  and  am  enormously  relieved 
to  find  you  are  well.  You  can  direct  the  next  envelopes  in  a 
feigned  hand;  it  is  safer  than  sending  you  any  more.  The 
outside  envelope  of  yours  of  the  25th  appears  to  have  been 
tampered  with,  but  the  inside  one  is  all  right.  I  am  trying  to 
arrange  that  you  may  see  me  as  soon  as  he*  is  gone  to  Madrid, 
and  you  become  quite  strong,  and  will  write  you  more  fully 
about  it  to-morrow.  Always  Your  King. 

Gum  your  inside  envelopes  well.  There  is  no  risk  of  my 
being  moved. 

December  3,  1881. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  Your  letter  of  the  1st  has  just  reached 
me. 

You  ought  to  have  had  a  note  by  the  1st  explaining  about 
P.  fare,  and  suggesting  caution  until  another  means  of  com- 
munication can  be  found,  as  my  messenger  fears  his  letters 
may  be  opened  any  day. 

I  am  exceedingly  well,  and  am  not  really  on  prison  fare, 
as  we  can  get  anything  we  want  here. 

Am  rejoiced  to  learn  that  Wifie  hopes  our  child  will  be 
strong  —  I  think  it  ought  to  have  a  good  constitution. 

All  my  pains  and  aches  have  quite  disappeared,  and  I  have 
become  quite  acclimatised.  I  expect  to  be  so  fresh  when  I 
get  out  that  even  Wifie  won't  be  able  to  hold  me,  although 
her  bonds  are  very  strong  and  pleasant. 

Always  Your  King. 

Tuesday,  December  6,  1881. 

My  Queenie,  —  I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  arrange  other 
means  of  communication  for  my  own  darling,  but  hope  to 
do  so  shortly. 

Her  dear  letter  of  the  1st  has  reached  me  quite  safely, 

*Captain  O'Sliea, 
209 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

but  it  would  be  a  risk  for  her  to  write  again  to  tlie  same  place. 
In  any  case  I  will  send  you  in  my  next  a  prescription  which 
will  enable  you  to  write  ordinary  letters  with  something  added. 
Your  King  never  felt  nearly  so  well  in  his  life  before.  The 
strong  exercise,  ball-playing,  which  I  have  missed  very  much 
during  the  last  few  years  of  my  life,  is  improving  me  immensely, 
as  strong  exercise  always  agreed  with  me. 

Your  Own  King. 

Wednesday,  December  7,  1881. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  You  will  see  a  paragraph  about  my 
health  in  the  Freeman  of  Friday  which  may  worry  you,  so  I 
write  to  say  that  it  is  very  much  exaggerated  for  the  purpose 
of  preventing  a  change  in  our  rooms  to  some  which  are  not  in 
any  way  so  nice. 

I  have  caught  a  slight  cold,  which  the  doctor  thinks  will 
pass  off  in  a  day  or  two. 

I  will  write  you  direct  to-morrow  with  the  secret  ink  of 
which  the  prescription  is  on  the  other  side.  No.  1  is  for  writ- 
ing. No.  2  is  for  bringing  it  out.  Wifie  may  write  me  with 
this  to  the  same  address  as  usual  and  in  the  same  way,  but  she 
should  write  also  with  ordinary  ink  on  the  first  page  of  the 
letter  something  as  follows: 

Dear  Sir,  —  I  have  yours  of inst.,  and  will  pay 

attention  to  the  directions  given.  —  Yours  truly, 

R.  Campbell. 

The  secret  handwriting  should  be  with  a  clean  quill  pen, 
and  should  be  written  lightly. 

I  feel  much  better  this  afternoon  than  I  did  this  morning. 

Always  Your  loving  Husband. 
You  had  best  test  the  No.  1  solution  by  attempting  to  bring 
it  out  with  No.  2.     If  it  does  not  come  out  well  increase  the 
strength  of  both  solutions.     Use  unglazed  rough  paper.     Do 
not  be  worried,  darling,  and  take  good  care  of  our  child. 

210 


KILMAINHAM  DAYS 

Friday,  December  9,  1881. 

INIy  own  Queenie,  —  I  wired  you  yesterday  as  I  was  dread- 
fully frightened  about  the  eflPect  the  par  in  Freeman  would 
have  on  you,  and  hope  you  did  not  get  into  overmuch  trouble 
about  telegram. 

The  feverish  cold  quite  passed  away  yesterday  after  one 
night,  and  I  am  up  to-day  but  keeping  a  poor  mouth,  so  as 
to  try  and  baulk  a  pretty  scheme  for  moving  us  from  our 
present  rooms  into  others  where  they  think  we  will  be  safer. 
You  must  not  pay  any  attention  to  O.  D.'s  account,  as  it  was 
carefully  got  up. 

I  don't  eat  bread,  only  for  breakfast,  but  D.  and  I  have 
each  two  raw  chops  smuggled  in  daily  which  we  do  for  our- 
selves, and  we  also  make  our  own  tea. 

We  also  always  have  a  cold  ham  in  stock  —  Queenie  must 
not  think  I  am  deceiving  her  about  anything  —  I  never  felt 
as  well  in  my  life  as  when  I  wrote  to  tell  her  so  the  evening  be- 
fore I  was  taken  ill,  and  next  morning  I  woke  with  a  hot  head. 

At  present  I  am  getting  all  my  food  from  the  Governor's 

kitchen,  and  it  is  excellent. 

We  hope  by  the  row  we  are  making  to  compel  Govern- 
ment to  make  the  food  sufficiently  good  to  satisfy  the  men  and 
take  expense  of  their  keep  off  our  resources. 

In  future  you  had  best  brush  any  letters  I  write  you  to 
E.  with  No.  2  solution,  as,  unless  you  desire  me  not  to  do  so, 
I  will  write  you  for  the  future  alternately  to  E.  and  W.  Place 
so  as  to  save  you  the  trouble  and  fatigue  of  going  to  London 
so  often.  Always  Your  Own  Husband. 

December  13,  1881. 
My  own  Queenie,  —  Your  two  letters  have  reached    me 
quite  safely  and  are  all  right. 

I  am  quite  well  again  now,  and  could  go  out  were  it  not 
that  the  weather  is  so  cold  that  the  doctor  does  not  think  it 
prudent. 

I  hope  my  darling  is  well  and  has  not  been  hurt  by  the 
anxiety.     My  mind  has  been  in  the  utmost  distress  about  my 

SI] 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Wifie  and  her  child  all  the  week,  and  you  do  not  know  what 
a  relief  your  telegram  from  London  was. 

December  14,  1881. 

My  darling  Queenie,  —  Your  second  letter  reached  me  all 
right,  and  I  can  read  them  perfectly.  But,  my  darling,  you 
frighten  me  dreadfully  when  you  tell  me  that  I  am  "surely 
killing  "  you  and  our  child. 

I  am  quite  well  again  now,  my  own,  and  v/as  out  to-day 
for  a  short  time,  and  will  take  much  better  care  of  myself  for 
the  future.  It  was  not  the  food,  but  a  chill  after  over-heat- 
ing myself  at  ball.  But  I  do  not  intend  to  go  back  on  prison 
fare,  even  nominally,  again,  as  the  announcement  that  we  were 
on  it  has  served  the  purpose  of  stimulating  the  subscription. 

Rather  than  that  my  beautiful  Wifie  should  run  any  risk 
I  will  resign  my  seat,  leave  politics,  and  go  away  somewhere 
with  my  own  Queenie,  as  soon  as  she  wishes;  will  she  come.^^ 
Let  me  know,  darling,  in  your  next  about  this,  whether  it  is 
safe  for  you  that  I  should  be  kept  here  any  longer. 

Your  Own  Husband. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  we  shall  be  released  at  opening  of 
Parliament,  but  I  think  not  sooner. 

Dr.  K.  was  allowed  to  be  with  me  at  night  while  I  was  ill, 
and  we  are  not  to  be  changed  from  our  rooms. 

December  15,  1881. 

My  ow^n  darling  Queenie,  —  Nothing  in  the  world  is 
worth  the  risk  of  any  harm  or  injury  to  you.  How  could  I 
ever  live  without  my  own  Katie .f^  —  and  if  you  are  in  danger, 
my  darling,  I  will  go  to  you  at  once. 

Dearest  Wifie,  your  letter  has  frightened  me  more  than  I 
can  tell  you.  Do  write,  my  darling,  and  tell  me  that  you  are 
better.  I  have  had  nothing  from  you  for  several  days.  I 
am  quite  well  and  strong  again. 

We  have  made  arrangements  so  that  everybody  will  be 
allowed  to  feed  himself  for  the  future,  the  poorer  men  getting 
so  much  a  week.  Your  Own  Husband. 

212 


KILMAINHAM  DAYS 

December  16,  1881. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  I  think  it  will  be  best  to  make  the 
change  you  suggest  in  yours  of  yesterday,  but  you  need  not 
trouble  or  fatigue  yourself  about  it  immediately. 

I  am  going  on  ail  right,  darling,  and  expect  to  have  another 
game  of  ball  to-morrow,  but  shall  take  care  not  to  heat  my- 
self. 

I  could  not  very  well  make  any  arrangement  or  enter 
into  any  undertaking  with  Government  unless  I  retired  alto- 
gether from  politics. 

Your  letter  has  relieved  me  very  much.  I  have  been 
dreadfully  frightened  about  you  for  the  last  week.  Do  take 
care  of  yourself,  my  own  darling,  and  I  will  also  take  good 
care  of  myself  for  the  future. 

We  have  both  to  live  for  each  other  for  many  happy  years 
together. 

You  need  not  write  near  so  heavily  or  use  so  much  ink, 
and  it  would  be  also  better  to  have  a  softer  paper,  more  like 
blotting  paper.  Your  Own  King. 

Decemher  21,  1881. 

Your  two  letters  of  the  20th  and  that  of  the  19th  duly 
received.  Have  not  yet  been  able  to  read  those  of  20th,  but 
will  reply  to-morrow. 

I  am  very  well  and  delighted  to  hear  that  Queenie  is  safe. 

In  haste.  Your  Own  King. 

Decemher '^'i,  1881. 
Many  happy  returns  of  Christmas,  my  own  darling.  Though 
your  husband  cannot  be  with  you  this  time,  he  looks  forward 
to  very  many  happy  returns  with  you. 

I  am  very,  very  happy  that  my  own  Wifie  is  better,  and 
that  she  has  been  relieved  from  some  of  the  intolerable  annoy- 
ance for  a  time. 

Your  husband  is  quite  well.  We  have  succeeded  in  getting 
our  new  exercise  ground. 

Alavays  Your  loving  King. 
213 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Xmas  Eve. 
Letters  of  22nd  and  23rd  arrived  safely. 

My  OWN  QuEENiE,  —  Just  as  the  coming  day  is  approach- 
ing I  send  my  own  love  what  she  has  asked  me  for,  and  trust 
that  it  will  make  her  forget  our  squabble  of  last  Xmas  Day, 
as  I  had  long  since  forgotten  it. 

My  darling,  you  are  and  always  will  be  everything  to  me, 
and  every  day  you  become  more  and  more  if  possible,  more 
than  everything  to  me. 

Queenie  need  not  be  in  the  least  anxious  about  me.  I 
have  been  getting  my  meals  from  the  Governor's  kitchen  up 
to  the  present,  but  to-morrow  we  return  to  the  old  arrange- 
ment of  being  supplied  from  the  outside.  Nominally  we  are 
to  get  only  one  meal  a  day  from  the  outside,  but  in  reality 
they  will  permit  those  who  wish  and  can  afford  it  to  get  the 
other  two  meals  as  well  from  outside,  at  their  own  expense, 
of  course,  and  those  who  are  with  me  in  these  quarters  intend 
to  do  this.  I  do  not  receive  any  letters  from  any  ladies  I 
know,  except  one  from  Mrs.  S.,  shortly  after  I  came  here. 
She  wrote  to  sympathise,  and  said  she  had  been  ill.  I  replied 
after  a  time,  asking  how  you  were,  but  forgot  to  ask  how  she 
was,  and  she  has  not  written  since.  Am  glad  to  say  that  none 
of  my  "young  women"  have  written. 

Let  me  know  as  soon  as  he  goes  and  I  will  write  you  home. 

Government  are  not  likely  to  go  out  for  a  while,  but  they 
will  scarcely  go  out  without  letting  me  out  first. 

Your  Own  King. 

December  30,  1881. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  Your  two  letters  just  received  but 
not  read  yet.  I  hope  Wifie  is  sleeping  better  and  getting 
stronger  like  her  husband. 

I  am  very  nervous  about  the  doctors,  and  you  should  at  all 
events  tell  one  of  them  the  right  time,  so  that  he  maybeon  hand, 
otherwise  you  may  not  have  one  at  all.  It  will  never  do  to  run 
this  risk. 

I  will  write  Queenie  a  long  letter  to-night. 

214 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

MORE   KILMAINHAM   LETTERS 

"The  soul  of  a  philosopher  vnll  consider  that  it  is 
the  office  of  philosophy  to  set  her  free." 

Socrates. 

January  3,  1882. 

My  own  darling  Queenie,  —  Many  happy  New  Years,  my 
own  love,  with  your  husband  to  make  you  happy. 

My  Queenie  must  take  great  care  of  herself,  and  must  be 
sure  to  have  at  least  one  doctor  in  February.  It  will  never 
do  to  let  it  trust  to  chance. 

There  is  every  prospect  of  my  being  able  to  see  my  darling 
soon,  but  it  does  not  do  to  be  too  sure,  as  things  change  so 
much  from  day  to  day. 

January  7,  1882. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  If  Queenie  could  see  her  husband 
reading  her  letters  over  and  over  again  every  night  she  would 
have  more  faith  in  their  readable  quality  and  power  for  giving 
her  husband  happiness  than  she  can  have  in  looking  at  the 
blank  paper  as  the  result  of  her  work.  The  paper  of  that  of 
the  6th,  which  reached  me  to-day,  is  exactly  suited;  but 
Wifie,  in  sending  two  sheets,  one  of  them  quite  blank,  makes 
a  bad  conspirator,  but  I  must  forgive  her,  as  the  result  is  by 
no  means  blank  to  me. 

I  do  feel  very  anxious  about  you,  my  darling,  and  can- 
not help  it.     You  must  tell  the  doctor,  and  never  mind  about 

.     Could  you  not  go  to  London  or  Brighton  about  the 

beginning  of  February.'^  London  would  be  best,  if  you  could 
get  him  away  on  any  pretext;  but  if  you  could  not,  Brighton 
would  leave  you  most  free  from  him. 

215 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

It  Is  perfectly  dreadful  that  Wifie  should  be  so  worried  at 
night.  I  had  hoped  that  the  doctor's  orders  would  have  pre- 
vented that. 

I  am  being  fed  very  well.  Chops  or  grilled  turkey  or  eggs 
and  bacon  for  breakfast,  soup  and  chops  for  luncheon,  and 
joint  and  vegetables,  etc.,  for  dinner,  and  sometimes  oysters. 
The  "one  meal  a  day"  is  only  a  pretence.  Each  man  gets  £2 
when  arrested,  and  15s.  a  week,  and  can  feed  himself  as  he 
likes.  Most  of  them  pocket  the  money  and  make  the  Govern- 
ment feed  them.  You  can  understand  the  unwillingness  of 
W.'s  friend  to  leave  under  these  circumstances.  The  Govern- 
ment food  is  much  better  now  after  the  row  about  it,  so  most 
of  the  men  can  manage  very  well  with  it,  and  send  the  15s. 
home  or  put  it  in  bank.  I  expect  the  majority  of  the  Irish 
people  will  be  here  after  a  time,  the  pay  is  so  good  and  it  is 
quite  a  safe  place.  I  am  very  well,  dearest  Queenie,  and 
enjoying  our  new  exercise  yard  very  much. 

Your  Own  King. 

January  11,  1882. 

My  o'wn  Queenie,  —  Yes,  I  will  go  to  you,  my  love,  im- 
mediately I  am  released.  There  is  nothing  in  the  Vv^orld  that 
I  can  do  in  Ireland,  nor  is  it  likely  that  I  shall  be  able  to  do 
anything  here  for  a  long  time  to  come.  Certainly  until  the 
Coercion  Act  has  expired  I  will  not  speak  here  again,  so  Queenie 
need  not  be  afraid  that  when  she  gets  me  again  she  will  lose 
me. 

I  am  disposed  to  think  that  Government  at  present  intend 
to  release  me  shortly  before  opening  of  Parliament,  but,  of 
course,  they  may  change  their  mind  and  hasten  or  postpone 
my  release.  Anyhow,  let  Queenie's  mind  be  quite  at  rest. 
I  am  very  well  and  am  growing  more  vigorous  every  day,  the 
air  and  exercise  in  the  new  yard  suiting  me  exactly. 

I  long  very,  very  much  to  be  with  my  own  Wifie  again, 
and  wish  I  could  take  care  of  and  comfort  her  in  the  time 
that  is  coming  —  Queenie  has  been  very  good  and  very  loving 
to  her  husband  to  give  him  this  child,  and  to  take  such  care 

216 


MORE  KILMAINHAM  LETTERS 

of  it  during  this  long,  sad  interval,  but  she  must  remem- 
ber that  she  is  far  more  to  me  than  all  the  world  beside,  and 
that  she  must  specially  take  care  of  herself,  as  her  King  can- 
not now  live  without  her. 

I  had  forgotten  to  tell  you  that  the  jacket  and  other  things 
you  gave  me  have  been  very  useful  and  comfortable.  Dur- 
ing my  illness  I  wore  it  all  the  time,  and  wear  it  now  in  the 
morning  to  read  the  newspapers.  It  has  quite  cured  pain  in 
shoulder. 

I  do  trust  you  have  been  now  relieved  for  a  time  by  his 
departure,  and  that  you  are  getting  a  little  sleep.  It  is  enough 
to  have  killed  you  several  times  over,  my  own  Queenie. 

Always  Your  Own  Husband. 

January  17,  1882. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  The  large  paper  is  very  good,  the  best 
for  the  purpose  of  any  you  have  tried  yet. 

Your  husband  is  so  happy  that  you  have  at  last  been  left 
free  for  a  time. 

Queenie  may  send  her  letters  from  any  place  about  that 
she  likes,  but  she  had  best  not  write  direct,  as  there  is  a  very 
sharp-eyed  man  over  the  letters. 

Very  much  lighter  writing  will  do,  and  it  might  be  written 
between  the  lines  of  the  ordinary  ink,  but  it  is  best  not  to  risk 
anything  just  now, 

I  think  Brighton  will  do  very  well  if  Wifie  likes  it,  and  if 
it  would  be  safe  for  her  to  be  so  far  from  London.  Her  King 
could  be  there  quite  well,  as  he  intends  to  take  a  holiday 
when  released,  and  will  not  go  to  work  at  once. 

Have  just  received  formal  and  usual  notice  of  further 
detention,  first  three  months  being  up.  The  other  two  have 
also  received  theirs.  This  has  no  significance  one  way  or  the 
other,  as  nobody  has  ever  been  released  at  the  end  of  the 
exact  period.  My  own  Wifie  must  try  and  keep  herself  well 
and  strong.  Does  she  feel  so.^^  I  wish  I  could  be  with  my 
poor  darling. 

It  is  really  the  only  reason  why  I  wish  for  a  change,  and 

217 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

my  Queenie's  loneliness  and  weariness  makes  me  very  un- 
happy. 

Yesterday  and  to-day  as  three  of  us  were  exercising  in 
our  yard  the  gates  in  adjoining  yard  leading  into  the  outer 
world  were  opened  twice  to  permit  some  carts  to  come  in  and 
go  out.  A  low  wall  only  separated  the  two  yards,  across  which 
we  could  have  easily  sprung;  there  was  no  warder  in  our 
yard,  and  only  one  in  the  next,  with  his  back  turned  to  us. 
So,  you  see,  we  can  get  out  whenever  we  want  to.  Trying 
to  escape  is  six  months  with  hard  labour,  so  we  have  nothing 
to  gain  by  it,  even  if  they  keep  us  till  end  of  Act  in  October, 
which  they  are  not  at  all  likely  to  do. 

Your  Own  loving  Husband. 

January  21,  1882. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  On  further  consideration  I  think  it 
would  be  much  too  risky  for  my  darling  to  go  to  Brighton,  as 
you  would  be  too  far  from  the  doctor,  so  let  it  be  London  or 
home.     I  shall  find  means  to  see  my  Wifie  wherever  she  is. 

It  looks  like  our  release  shortly. 

Yours  of  19th  received. 

January  23,  1882. 

We  have  got  an  air-gun  and  practise  every  day. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  Your  letter  of  the  day  before  yester- 
day makes  me  very  nervous  about  my  own  love  again,  as  I 
fear  from  it  that  you  are  going  to  distress  and  worry  your- 
self about  me  again.  I  can  assure  you,  my  own,  that  I  am 
exceedingly  well,  and  am  likely  to  remain  so. 

Notwithstanding  the  newspapers,  it  is  most  unlikely  they 
will  keep  us  here  till  the  commencement  of  session.  D., 
indeed,  will  probably  go  out  in  a  day  or  two  on  account  of 
his  health;  but  in  any  case  my  Queenie  must  not  think  of 
worrying  about  her  husband,  as  he  is  very  comfortable  and 
happy  where  he  is,  if  he  might  only  see  his  own  Wifie  some- 
times. I  should  feel  quite  lonely  now  in  London  without 
being  able  to  see  my  darling,  and  I  should  very  much  prefer 

218 


MORE  KILMAINHAM  LETTERS 

to  stay  here  than  to  be  all  alone  in  London  while  Wifie  is 
sufTering,  except  that  I  know  it  would  comfort  her  to  have 
me  even  so  near  her. 

I  hope  you  have  received  my  letter  saying  that  I  think 
London  or  home  the  best  for  you,  and  not  Brighton;  the  latter 
would  be  much  too  far  from  the  doctors.  Does  Wifie  feel 
strong  and  well?  I  fear  my  poor  Queenie  has  had  a  dreadful 
time  of  it,  and  our  poor  little  child  also. 

Your  Own  loving  King. 

January  28,  1882. 

My  own  dearest  Queenie,  —  I  did  not  like  to  write  direct, 
lest  there  should  be  any  mistake,  especially  as  my  paper  is  not 
very  suitable.  It  looks  as  if  they  were  going  to  keep  me  here 
for  a  while  longer,  probably  till  a  month  or  so  after  the  open- 
ing of  session,  in  order  that  they  may  get  their  new  rules 
more  easily. 

I  do  not  know  what  to  say,  my  darling,  about  your  going 
to  Brighton,  but  Queenie  will  decide  best  for  herself.  I  hope 
Wifie  will  not  feel  much  worried  about  not  seeing  me  so  soon 
as  she  hoped.  Her  husband  is  very  well  indeed,  and  in  the 
best  of  spirits. 

I  do  not  like  your  going  to  London  so  often,  it  may  hurt 
you.  Is  there  any  address  you  could  get  nearer  home,  so 
that  you  would  not  have  to  go  so  far.f* 

My  poor  little  Wifie,  I  wish  I  could  be  with  you,  but  Queenie 
must  be  good  and  take  care  of  herself. 

It  looks  to-day  as  if  D.  would  go  out  soon;  in  that  case  it 
would  facilitate  our  release.  Your  Own  King. 

January  31,  1882. 
Have  received  your  two  letters  postmarked  E.     Be  cautious 
about  writing  for  a  few  days.     I  am  very  well,  and  trust  my 
darling  is  well. 

Rumours  about  legal  adviser  being  arrested,  but  will  send 
you  another  address  to-morrow. 

219 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

February  2,  1882. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  Have  just  received  your  third  letter 
with  E.  postmark  —  shall  write  you  to-morrow  direct  so  as  to 
avoid  for  you  the  fatigue  of  going  to  London.  The  writing 
between  the  lines  comes  out  perfectly,  and  you  need  at  no 
time  write  more  heavilj^ 

With  best  love  and  urgent  request  that  my  darling  will 
take  care  of  herself.  Your  Own  King. 

February  3,  1882. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  You  really  must  try  and  sleep  prop- 
erly at  night  and  stop  worrying  yourself  about  me.  I  can 
assure  my  darling  there  is  nothing  to  feel  unhappy  about  so 
far  as  my  health  goes.  I  really  cannot  remember  when  I 
have  ever  felt  so  well  in  my  life. 

It  is  very  very  hard  not  to  be  able  to  see  each  other,  and 
that  my  poor  Wifie  should  not  have  her  husband  with  her 
now  —  I  think  after  this  letter  I  shall  be  able  to  v/rite  you  a 
few  lines  occasionally  home,  so  as  to  save  Wifie  going  to  Lon- 
don, but  if  she  writes  to  me  in  the  same  way  she  must  be  very 
careful  and  write  very  lightly  and  between  the  lines.  A  gold 
pen  is,  I  think,  better  than  a  quill. 

The  alarm  about  the  legal  adviser  has  blown  over,  so 
Queenie  may  direct  as  usual. 

The  Paris  failures  don't  concern  us  in  any  way,  as  every- 
thing is  secure.  * 

Give  my  best  love  to  our  little  child,  and  take  good  care 
of  yourself  and  it  for  my  sake.        Your  Own  Husband. 

February  10,  1882. 
My  own  Queenie,  —  I  have  received  your  note  postmarked 
7th,  but  have  not  had  time  to  read  it  yet. 

I  hope  my  darling  will  take  better  care  of  herself;  that 
journey  to  London  in  the  fog  was  most  dangerous  for  her. 
I  think  that  we  shall  probably  be  released  by  the  middle 
*An  allusion  to  political  funds  banked  in  Paris. 
220 


MORE  KILMAINHAM  LETTERS 

of  March,  as  it  will  be  known  then  which  way  the  tenants 
intend  to  go,  and  we  shall  be  able  to  decide  whether  it  is 
worth  our  while  remaining  here  any  longer. 

How  does  Queenie  intend  letting  her  husband  know  how 
she  is?  Your  Own  loving  King. 


February  14. 

My  own  darling  Queenie,  —  To-day  I  have  written  you 
direct,  sending  a  few  words  between  the  lines,  just  to  see  how 
it  will  answer.  I  find  that  rubbing  with  blotting  paper  after 
the  words  are  dry  takes  away  any  glistening  or  appearance  of 
letters.  My  own  Wifie  had  best  not  try  writing  direct  here, 
but  send  all  her  letters  as  usual,  and  continue  to  do  so. 

The  note  I  have  just  v/ritten  goes  out  through  a  v/arder,  and 
I  think  I  shall  always  be  able  to  manage  in  that  way,  but  in 
case  Queenie  should  get  a  letter  from  me  through  the  Governor 
she  will  see  it  marked  with  his  initials  on  the  top  left-hand 
corner,  and  in  that  case  she  might  write  me  a  commonplace 
letter  direct  here,  but  nothing  between  the  lines. 

Wifie  is  very  good  indeed  to  write  her  husband  such  beauti- 
ful letters;  if  she  only  knew  what  a  pleasure  and  happiness 
every  word  from  her  is  to  her  husband  it  might  make  her 
feel  a  little  less  unhappy.  I  am  very  much  troubled  about 
my  darling  having  become  so  thin,  and  fear  that  you  have 
suffered  a  great  deal  more  than  you  have  ever  told  me,  and  that 
you  are  not  strong.  I  often  reproach  myself  for  having  been 
so  cruel  to  my  own  love  in  staying  so  long  away  from  her  that 
time,  which  has  led  to  such  a  long,  long  separation.  I  was 
dragged  into  that  Kildare  engagement,  otherwise  I  should 
have  been  safe  with  Wifie.  Until  then  I  had  settled  that  I 
should  leave  Ireland  after  Wexford.  It  would,  however,  have 
been  very  difficult  for  me  to  have  kept  out  of  the  country 
even  if  I  had  left  then,  and  on  the  whole  I  hope  it  will  turn 
out  all  for  the  best.  At  least,  I  am  very  glad  that  the  days 
of  platform  speeches  have  gone  by  and  are  not  likely  to  return. 
I  cannot  describe  to  you  the  disgust  I  always  felt  with  those 

221 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

meetings,  knowing  as  I  did  how  hollow  and  wanting  in  solidity 
everything  connected  with  the  movement  was.  When  I  was 
arrested  I  did  not  think  the  movement  would  have  survived 
a  month,  but  this  wretched  Government  have  such  a  fashion 
for  doing  things  by  halves  that  it  has  managed  to  keep  things 
going  in  several  of  the  counties  up  till  now.  However,  next 
month,  when  the  seeding  time  comes,  will  probably  see  the  end 
of  all  things  and  our  speedy  release. 

I  hope  Wifie  has  got  her  house  in  London;  I  am  exceed- 
ingly anxious  about  those  long  journeys  to  London  for  you, 
my  own.  Your  husband  is  very  well  indeed,  and  is,  I  think, 
actually  beginning  to  grow  fat ! 

I  think  Queenie  ought  to  congratulate  me  at  being  away 
from  the  House  instead  of  pitying  me. 

When  I  get  out  I  hope  to  have  a  good  long  rest  with  my 
own  little  Wifie  somewhere,  and  to  listen  to  the  waves  breaking 
as  we  used  those  mornings  of  spring  last  May. 

Your  Own  loving  Husband. 

February  17,  1882. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  I  had  written  my  Queenie  a  nice 
long  letter  which  she  should  have  liked  very  much,  but  an 
alarm  came  before  my  messenger  arrived  that  we  were  all 
going  to  be  searched,  and  I  was  obliged  to  burn  it. 

I  intend  to  try  and  send  you  a  letter  direct,  written  be- 
tween the  lines  —  I  find  that  by  rubbing  the  words  after  they 
are  dry  it  removes  all  the  glistening  appearance. 

Queenie  had  best  not  write  me  direct  at  any  time,  but  she 
can  send  me  a  word  in  the  usual  way  as  soon  as  she  is  able  to 
tell  me  how  she  is.  Your  King  will  wait  very  anxiously  for 
that  word.  Oh,  my  Queenie,  do  take  care  of  yourself,  and  do 
not  run  any  risk  by  remaining  at  E. 

It  is  exceedingly  likely  that  we  shall  all  be  released  about 
the  end  of  March,  as  then  the  lading  time  comes,  and  the 
tenants  will  have  to  decide  whether  they  will  pay  or  not,  and 
as  the  majority  have  decided  to  pay  already  it  is  most  likely 
the  minority  will  then  follow  suit.  ""^ouR  Own  King. 


MORE  KILMAINHAM  LETTERS 

February  17,  1882. 

My  own  darling  Queenie,  —  I  cannot  describe  to  you 
what  a  relief  your  little  note  was  that  everything  was  quite 
right.  Oh,  my  Wifie,  when  I  had  your  two  short  messages  of 
the  14th  your  poor  husband  burst  into  tears  and  could  not 
hold  up  his  head  or  think  of  anything  until  my  darling's 
note  arrived  that  everything  was  right. 

My  own,  you  must  be  very  good  and  quiet  until  you  are 
quite  strong  again,  and  do  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  get  up. 

I  have  only  just  a  minute  to  close  this  as  my  Mercury  is 
waiting.  Your  Own  loving  Husband. 

My  baby  was  born  on  February  16th,  1882.  I  was 
very  ill,  but  the  joy  of  possessing  Parnell's  child  carried 
me  through  my  trouble.  She  was  a  beautiful  baby, 
apparently  strong  and  healthy  —  for  the  first  few  weeks 
—  and  with  the  brown  eyes  of  her  father.  This  child  of 
tragedy  rarely  cried,  but  lay  watching  me  with  eyes 
thoughtful  and  searching  beyond  the  possibility  of  her 
little  life.  I  used  to  seek  in  hers  for  the  fires  always 
smouldering  in  the  depths  of  her  father's  eyes,  but  could 
not  get  beyond  that  curious  gravity  and  understanding 
in   them,   lightened  only  by  the  little  smile  she  gave 

when  I  came  near. 

*  ^  :¥  *  *  ^  * 

March  5,  1882. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  It  is  so  long  since  I  have  heard 
from  you  that  I  sometimes  wonder  whether  you  have  quite 
forgotten  me. 

In  case  you  see  any  of  my  friends  who  may  inquire  after 
me,  will  you  kindly  tell  them  that  I  am  very  well,  and  that 
there  is  no  truth  in  the  stupid  rumour  which  appeared  in 
some  of  the  London  papers  about  the  seven  days'  solitary 
confinement  —  I  was  merely  prevented  from  receiving  or  send- 
ing letters  for  a  week;  the  latter  portion  of  the  sentence  did 

223 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

not  trouble  me  much,  as  I  am  an  even  worse  correspondent  in 
here  than  when  I  was  outside. 

I  think  you  will  scarcely  know  me  when  you  see  me  again, 
I  have  become  so  fat. 

I  have  not  heard  from  your  sister  for  a  great  many  months; 
in  fact  have  only  had  one  letter  from  her  since  I  have  been 
here. 

Believe  me,  yours  very  truly,  Chas  S.  Parnell. 

March  16,  1882. 

My  own  darling  Queenie,  —  You  are  very  good  to  your 
husband  in  writing  so  often  and  so  lovingly  to  your  King, 
even  when  you  must  have  been  suffering  terribly.  I  cannot 
describe  to  my  little  Wifie  how  hopeless  and  utterly  miser- 
able I  felt  until  your  little  note  came  that  all  was  quite  right. 
I  am  very  happy,  my  own,  that  our  little  daughter  pleases 
you,  and  that  you  are  not  too  much  disappointed,  and  that 
she  is  strong  and  good-tempered.  Does  Queenie  think  she 
will  be  too  big?  I  shall  love  her  very  much  better  than  if  it 
had  been  a  son;  indeed,  my  darling,  I  do  love  her  very  much 
already,  and  feel  very  much  like  a  father.  What  do  you  intend 
to  call  her? 

Will  you  not  give  her  papa's  best  love  and  innumerable 
kisses.'^ 

I  have  been  arranging  a  little  happiness,  I  hope,  for  Queenie, 
as  soon  as  she  is  strong  and  well  enough  to  come  over  here 
and  can  manage  it.  I  have  been  training  up  Captain  Barlow, 
the  chairman  of  the  Prisons  Board,  to  allow  me  to  see  my 
married  sisters  in  private.  To-day  I  got  him  to  give  me  a 
private  visit  with  one  of  them,  Mrs.  Dickinson,  for  the  first 
time,  and  I  did  so  with  the  intention  of  passing  Queenie  ojff 
as  another  married  sister  after  a  time.  Wifie  will  then  be 
able  to  come  and  see  for  herself  how  well  her  husband  looks, 
and  how  happy  and  comfortable  he  is.  I  don't  know  whether 
they  intend  to  move  me  or  not,  and  do  not  like  to  guess,  but 
wherever  I  go  I  shall  be  probably  very  well  off.  The  dusting 
they  got  in  the  House  the  other  night  about  treatment  of  the 

224 


MORE  KILMAINHAM  LETTERS 

rank  and  file  will  do  them  good.  I  am  told  that  all  the  police 
in  the  King's  County  were  drafted  into  Tullamore  and  put 
into  plain  clothes  to  form  an  audience  for  Forster.  Shall 
send  Wifie  my  weight  to-morrow  with  certificate  of  chief 
warder  so  that  you  may  believe  it. 

Do  you  remember  what  it  was  the  last  time?  I  think 
Wifie  has  the  ticket,  and  that  it  was  about  twelve  stone. 

I  hear  from  all  over  the  country  that  the  tenants  are  every- 
where settling,  so  we  shall  be  probably  out  in  a  couple  of 
months,  unless  we  are  kept  to  make  sure  that  they  pay  the 
next  time. 

I  hope  my  own  love  will  take  good  care  of  herself  and  not 
try  to  go  to  London  too  soon.  I  want  Queenie  when  I  see  her 
to  be  an  even  younger  little  Wifie  than  when  I  gave  her  that 
last  kiss. 

The  idea  of  nursing  our  little  daughter  was  too  preposter- 
ous. Do,  my  own  darling,  think  of  yourself  and  take  great, 
great  care  of  your  husband's  own  little  Wifie. 

Good-night,  my  own  darling  Queenie. 

Your  lovixg  Husband. 

31  arch  23,  1882. 

My  own  darling  Wifie,  —  I  have  only  just  got  an  oppor- 
tunity of  sending  my  Queenie  a  few  lines,  and  will  write  a 
nice  long  letter  to-night. 

No  letter  came  to  me  from  you  between  that  dated  March  14 
and  the  two  of  March  20.  A  reference  to  his*  return  from 
Paris  makes  me  think  that  you  may  have  sent  me  one  be- 
tween, informing  me  that  he  had  gone,  which  I  did  not  re- 
ceive. If  you  think  one  has  been  intercepted  write  in  future 
to  Mr.  W.  Kerr,  Casino,  Rathdrum,  and  they  will  reach  me 
safely,  otherwise  no  change  need  be  made. 

The  letter  written  between  the  lines,  of  which  I  spoke,  was 
that  refused  by  the  warder,  and  I  did  not  send  it. 

Mrs.  S.  has  written  me  that  she  has  "seen  you  recently," 
*Captam  O'Shea- 
225 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

and  that  you  "have  not  yet  left  your  room,"  assuming  that 
I  know  all  about  it.     What  am  I  to  say  to  her? 

I  have  not  been  weighed  yet,  but  shall  try  to-day  and  send 
my  own  darling  the  true  weight.  It  must  be  considerably 
more  than  12—5. 

My  beautiful  little  Wifie  must  continue  to  take  great  care 
of  herself  and  not  go  too  often  to  town. 

Your  Own  loving  King. 

March  24,  1882. 
My  own  Queenie,  —  Since  writing  you  yesterday  have 
received  your  letter  dated  17th,  which  had  accidentally  gone 
astray,  so  if  there  is  no  other  letter  which  I  ought  to  have 
got  you  can  send  to  the  same  address  as  usual. 

Your  Own  King. 

March  27,  1882. 
My  own  darling  Queenie,  —  I  am  very  anxious  about 
our  little  daughter.     Is  it  dangerous.? 

Was  weighed  yesterday  —  12st.  7  lb.  Have  certainly  gained 
five  or  six  pounds  since  I  have  been  here. 

How  did  Wifie  find  out  I  had  grown  a  beard.'* 

Your  Own  loving  King. 

I  don't  think  we  shall  be  moved. 

March  29,  1882. 

My  own  darling  little  Wifie,  —  I  am  very  much  re- 
lieved to  hear  that  our  little  child  is  better,  and  is  likely  to  be 
all  right  soon;  but  fear  my  poor  Queenie  must  have  been  ex- 
hausted by  all  that  hunting  about  for  nurses.  I  cannot  con- 
sent to  Wifie  turning  nurse  even  when  brown  eyes  do  come. 
She  is  much  too  good  and  beautiful  for  anything  of  the  kind. 

Do  you  remember  a  small  pair  of  scissors  with  fine  points 
that  Queenie  once  gave  me  in  London?  I  have  got  them 
still,  and  cut  mj^  cigar  with  them  everj^  morning. 

Shall  write  Mrs. as  you  suggest,  and  say  am  sorry  to 


MORE  KILMAINHAM  LETTERS 

hear  you  had  not  yet  left  your  room,  and  that  I  had  seen  the 
event  in  the  Times  and  hoped  you  would  soon  be  quite  well 
again.  If  my  own  can  make  an  arrangement  now  for  him* 
to  keep  away,  I  think  she  ought  to  do  so.  It  will  be  too  intoler- 
able having  him  about  always.  When  I  see  Wifie  again  or 
am  released,  I  can  consider  the  situation,  but  until  then,  if 
you  can  you  had  best  make  some  arrangement. 

Wifie  must  not  be  frightened  at  the  vapourings  of  the 
Government  yesterday;  they  amount  to  nothing,  and  they 
know  perfectly  well  that  neither  I  nor  any  of  my  friends  out- 
side have  sanctioned  in  any  way  certain  recent  deplorable 
occurrences.  They  are  simply  the  result  of  leaving  the  people 
without  guidance  and  appear  to  be  quite  spontaneous.  In  any 
case  the  country  is  likely  to  quiet  down  as  the  days  get  longer 
and  the  crops  commence  to  spring  up,  D.  is  to  be  released 
immediately  the  House  adjourns  for  Easter,  and  after  a  time, 
when  they  find  nothing  happening  as  a  consequence  of  his 
release,  they  will  probably  take  courage  and  let  me  out  also. 
Anyhow  this  Government  are  going  down  the  hill  very  fast, 
and  are  not  likely  to  last  more  than  another  session,  and  we 
will  take  care  that  if  they  once  go  out  they  shall  not  come  in 
again  very  quickly.  My  own  loveliest  Wifie,  I  do  not  think 
they  intend  moving  me.  Your  loving  Husband. 

March  30.  —  The  London  correspondent  of  Freeman  is  very 
ignorant. 

March  30,  1882. 
My   own   little   Wifie,  —  The  letter  posted   at  Bexley 
reached  me  all  right  after  it  had  gone  astray  for  two  or  three 
days.     Queenie's  of  28th  has  also  reached  me. 

I  suppose  you  did  not  address  one  to  Casino,  as  I  have 
had  none  from  there.  I  wrote  yesterday  to  say  that  I  think 
you  had  best  make  some  arrangement  about  him  pending 
my  release,  and  when  that  takes  place  we  can  consider  further. 
I  will  let  my  darling  see  me  any  time  as  soon  as  she  is 
quite  strong  again.     We  are  going  to  have  a  weekly  biography 

*Captain  O'Shea. 
227 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

of  doubtful  Irish  members  in  Irishman  or  rather  United  Ire- 
land which  will  come  out  again  shortly  in  such  a  form  as  to 
save  it  from  seizure. 

If  Queenie  sends  me  some  of  our  daughter's  hair  I  will  put 
it  in  the  locket  I  have  with  Wifie's.  Would  Sophie  make  a 
nice  second  name?  It  was  the  name  of  one  of  my  sisters  whom 
I  was  said  to  be  most  like  of  the  family;  but  possibly  it  might 
make  suspicions. 

I  am  very  anxious  about  my  darling  going  to  London  so 
often,  it  must  be  very  bad  for  you.  You  may  try  your  next 
letter  upon  ordinary  paper,  unglazed,  and  do  not  crowd  what 
you  write  in  ordinary  ink  into  one  little  space  in  the  middle  of 
the  sheet.  After  the  solution  has  dried  if  you  rub  over  the 
letters  with  an  ink  eraser  it  will  remove  all  the  glistening  and 
appearance  of  letters.  I  wonder  they  have  never  opened 
any  of  them,  but  they  may  do  it  at  any  time.  It  would  not 
hurt  me  in  any  way  as  I  do  not  use  it  for  any  other  purpose. 
Unless,  indeed,  they  sent  it  to  a  certain  person. 

Queenie  must  not  be  alarmed  about  stupid  rumours  in 
the  papers.  You  know  what  these  liners  are,  and  the  Free- 
man agent  in  London  is  singularly  stupid  and  badly  informed. 

Your  loving  Husband. 

A^pril  5,  1882. 

My  own  dearest  Wifie,  —  I  think  it  very  likely  that  some- 
thing will  be  done  by  the  Government  shortly  on  the  arrears 
ciuestion.  If  this  be  so,  things  will  undoubtedly  quiet  down 
a  great  deal,  and  it  will  give  us  an  opportunity  of  coming  to 
some  arrangement.  I  do  not  in  the  least  apprehend  that  any 
further  steps  will  be  taken  against  me  in  anj^  case,  though, 
of  course,  they  would  eagerly  grasp  at  the  slightest  thing  in 
order  to  try  and  throw  discredit  on  me. 

So  far  as  I  can  judge,  the  number  of  outrages  has  dimin- 
ished very  materially  during  the  last  two  or  three  weeks,  and 
is  likely  to  continue  decreasing. 

My  own  Wifie  must  remember  that  I  was  only  12st.  2  lb. 
when  I  came  here,  as  I  had  fallen  away  very  much  after  I  left 

228 


MORE  KILMAINHAM  LETTERS 

her,  and  that  I  have  got  back  5  lb.  since,  notwithstanding 
my  illness,  which  left  me  very  thin  indeed.  Poor  little  Queenie 
must  be  greatly  troubled  and  anxious  at  all  the  rumours  she 
hears,  but  she  need  not  regard  any  of  them;  she  knows  what 
newspaper  men  are. 

Give  my  best  love  and  ever  so  many  kisses  to  our  little 
daughter.  I  am  very  much  troubled  about  her  health,  and 
hope  it  will  not  make  her  permanently  delicate. 

I  am  longing  very  very  much  to  see  my  own  WijQe.  I  love 
you,  my  darling,  more  and  more  every  day,  and  I  should  feel 
quite  reconciled  to  giving  up  politics  for  ever  and  living  with 
my  sweet  Katie  all  by  ourselves  away  from  everybody  and 
everything.  I  do  not  think  anything  will  ever  induce  me 
to  speak  from  a  platform  again.  I  alwa^  s  disliked  it  exces- 
sively, but  I  should  loathe  it  now.  Wifie  must  not,  however, 
suppose  that  I  am  annoyed  with  the  way  things  have  gone. 
On  the  contrary,  everything  has  succeeded  remarkably,  and 
much  better  than  anybody  could  have  expected. 

It  is  thought  that  D.*  will  be  released  to-morrow.  —  Good- 
night, my  own  Wifie.  Your  loving  Husband. 

April  7,  1882. 

IMy  own  dearest  Wifie,  —  I  am  so  happy  from  receiving 
your  letter  of  the  5th  to-day,  although  part  of  what  you  say 
about  our  daughter  makes  me  very  anxious  indeed. 

I  hope  the  poor  little  thing  will  soon  get  over  it.  Her 
hair  is  absolutely  lovely.  I  am  so  glad  it  is  more  like  Queenie's 
than  mine,  although  there  is  enough  of  mine  in  it  to  spoil  it 
somewhat  and  render  it  less  beautiful  than  Wifie's.  Still, 
there  is  a  splendid  golden  tint  in  it  which  is  quite  exceptional. 

Wifie  need  not  feel  at  all  anxious  about  me  or  anything 
which  the  Government  are  likely  to  do  or  be  able  to  do.  Al- 
though there  have  been  one  or  two  bad  events  things  are 
getting  much  quieter  every  day.  D.  is  going  abroad  and  will 
not  even  appear  in  the  House  for  a  couple  of  months.  My 
mother's  health  has,  I  fear,  become  very  much  broken  latterly, 

*Dillon. 
229 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

and  after  a  time  I  think  of  applying  to  go  over  to  see  her,  but 
I  must  try  and  get  O.  K.*  out  first. 

I  am  still  keeping  very  well,  although  have  missed  the 
ball-playing  very  much  for  the  last  three  weeks,  as  O.  K., 
who  used  to  play  with  me,  has  been  ill.  I  think  my  weight 
is  very  good  considering  the  hard  exercise  I  have  been  taking 
and  the  good  condition  I  am  in.  I  hope  my  precious  one  is 
getting  strong  again  and  that  she  will  have  some  good  news 
to  tell  me  of  our  little  daughter  when  she  writes  next. 

Your  Own  loving  Husband. 

I  will  not  speak  of  my  anguish  when  I  found  that  the 
child  of  my  love  was  slowdy  dying,  and  that  the  doc- 
tors I  called  in  could  do  nothing  for  her.  Slowly  she 
faded  from  me,  daily  gaining  in  that  far-reaching  ex- 
pression of  understanding  that  dying  children  have  so 
strongly,  and  my  pain  was  the  greater  in  that  I  feared 
her  father  would  never  see  her  now. 

Willie  w^as  very  good;  I  told  him  my  baby  was  dying 
and  I  must  be  left  alone.  He  had  no  suspicion  of  the 
truth,  and  only  stipulated  that  the  child  should  be  bap- 
tised at  once  —  urged  thereto,  I  think,  by  his  mother 
and  sister.  I  had  no  objection  to  this.  Parnell  and 
I  had  long  before  agreed  that  it  would  be  safer  to  have 
the  child  christened  as  a  Catholic,  and  he  had  no  feel- 
ing at  all  against  the  Catholic  religion,  considering,  in- 
deed, that,  for  those  who  required  a  religion,  it  was  an 
admirable  one.  I  made  an  altar  of  flowers  in  my  draw- 
ing-room, as  the  child  was  much  too  ill  to  be  taken  to 
church,  and  there  the  priest.  Father  Hart,  came  and 
baptised  Sophie  Claude.  Sophie,  after  Parnell's  sister, 
Claude,  after  Lord  Truro,  an  old  friend  of  mine. 

A  few  days  before  the  death  of  my  baby  I  had  the 
unspeakable  comfort  of  knowing  that  Parnell  could  come 

*0'Kelly. 
230 


MORE  KILMAINHAM  LETTERS 

to  me  for  a  few  hours  and  perhaps  see  his  child  while 
she  Hved.  His  nephew,  son  of  his  sister  Delia  (Mrs. 
Thomson),  had  died  in  Paris,  and  the  authorities  gave 
Parnell  leave  on  *' parole"  to  attend  the  young  man's 
funeral.  A  brilliant,  handsome  fellow,  great  sympathy 
was  felt  with  the  parents  of  this  only  son. 

Spring  was  very  early  that  year,  and  in  the  April 
morning  when  the  air  was  fragrant  with  the  sweet  fresh- 
ness of  the  spring  flowers  and  the  very  breath  of  life 
was  in  the  wind,  Parnell  came  to  me  and  I  put  his  dy- 
ing child  into  his  arms. 

That  evening  he  had  to  go  on  to  Paris. 

Grand  Hotel, 
12  Boulevard  des  Capucines,  Paris, 

Thursday,  April  13, 1882. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  I  hope  to  leave  Paris  on  Saturday 
morning.  The  doctor  says  the  fever  is  not  infectious,  but  I 
doubt  it  very  much,  as  a  great  many  people  amongst  the 
American  colony  are  having  it  just  now.  I  am  staying  here, 
but  I  am  obliged  to  go  to  the  house,  which  has  been  well  dis- 
infected, to  see  my  sister,  who  is  very  much  cut  up.  The 
risk  to  me  is  a  minimum,  as  I  had  this  fever  very  badly  when 
I  was  young,  and  they  say  people  very  rarely  have  it  a  second 
time,  and  then  only  slightly. 

At  all  events  it  is  the  ordinary  typhoid,  which  doctors  say 
is  not  catching. 

I  shall  take  a  Turkish  bath  every  day  I  am  here,  and  adopt 
other  precautions.  Your  Own  loving  King. 

Grand  Hotel, 
12  Boulevard  des  Capucines,  Paris, 

Saturday,  April  15,  1882. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  I  think  of  leaving  Paris  to  spend 
a  few  days  in  the  south  or  elsewhere  on  Monday  morning. 
Had  intended  starting  this  evening,  but  caught  a  slight  cold 

231 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

coming  over,  which  the  doctor,  whom  my  sister  insisted  on 
seeing  me,  says  is  nothing,  but  think  I  had  best  not  travel  till 
Monday. 

I  am  very  glad  that  I  came  over,  as  my  sister  is  in  a  very 
low  state,  and  my  coming  has  picked  her  up  very  much. 

Believe  me,  yours  always  truly, 

Charles  S.  Parnell. 

Grand  Hotel, 
12  Boulevard  des  Capucines,  Paris, 

Sunday,  April  16, 1882. 

My  dear  Mrs.  O'Shea,  —  Having  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
the  doctor,  he  informed  me  to-day  that  he  was  coming  again 
to-morrow  morning,  and  upon  my  saying  that  I  wished  to 
commence  my  journey  to  the  country  to-morrow  he  said  he 
would  let  me  go  on  Tuesday  morning.  Perhaps  it  is  better  so, 
as  I  might  catch  fresh  cold  if  I  started  so  soon  as  to-morrow. 

I  was  out  a  good  deal  yesterday  by  the  doctor's  orders, 
and  dined  with  my  sister  in  the  evening.     She  is  much  better. 

To-day  a  north  wind  is  blowing,  and  I  shall  not  go  out 
much,  although  my  cold  is  quite  gone.  I  think  I  caught  it 
from  leaving  off  a  flannel  jacket  which  I  used  to  wear  when 
asleep  in  prison.  It  would  have  been  a  bad  chest  cold  had 
I  not  taken  two  Turkish  baths  immediately  I  felt  it  coming 
on. 

I  am  staying  here  under  the  name  of  Stewart,  and  have 
not  been  found  out  yet.  —  Yours  very  sincerely, 

Charles  S.  Parnell. 

After  his  nephew's  funeral  he  returned  to  Eltham, 
having,  before,  telegraphed  to  Willie  to  say  that  he  was 
coming.  He  washed  to  conciliate  Willie  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, and  believed  that  his  politics  might  now  prove  use- 
ful. 

All  that  night  of  the  21st  April  Parnell  and  Willie 
sat  up  in  my  dining-room  discussing  the  Irish  question, 

232 


>.i  '■ 


CO 


cc 
cc 


MORE  KILMAINHAM  LETTERS 

and  bit  by  bit  working  out  the  " Kilmainham  Treaty." 
Willie  wanted  me  to  join  them,  but  I  would  not  leave 
my  baby,  and  when  the  daylight  came  and  they  went  to 
lie  down  for  a  few  hours'  rest  before  Parnell  left  for 
Ireland,  my  little  one  died  as  my  lover  stole  in  to  kiss 
us  both  and  say  good-bye. 

Overlooking  the  valley  in  the  Catholic  churchyard 
at  Chislehurst  is  her  little  grave,  headed  by  a  granite 
cross  and  wreathed  about  with  clematis  and  white  roses; 
and  often  as  we  drove  past  on  our  way  home  through 
the  summer  evenings  Parnell  would  go  in  to  scatter  the 
wild  flowers  he  had  gathered  for  me  over  little  Sophie's 
resting-place. 

The  following  letter  from  my  sister-in-law,  Mary 
O'Shea,  I  insert  as  proving,  I  think  very  conclusively, 
that  my  little  one's  paternity  was  utterly  unsuspected 
by  the  O'Sheas. 

Paris,  Avenue  Wagram  137, 

Sunday,  May  '21,  1882. 
Dearest  Katie,  —  We  are  very  pleased  to  be  able  to  hope 
that  you  are  better.  How  is  your  dear  aunt.'^  We  trust 
she  is  better.  I  cannot  express  our  feelings  of  affectionate 
regard  for  her,  nor  can  I  say  adequately  how  truly  we  desire 
her  happiness  here  and  for  all  eternity  in  Heaven.  She  has 
been  so  sweet  a  friend  and  so  charming  in  all  her  ways  towards 
your  dear  children,  "the  butterflies,"  most  attractive  designa- 
tion. Dear  Lady  O'Donnell  wrote  a  rapturous  description  of 
the  little  creatures.  She  loved  your  dear  little  Claude,  and 
shared  your  grief  at  losing  her,  but,  happy  child,  how  glorious 
is  her  existence!  What  a  contrast  to  ours,  we  who  must 
struggle  on,  working  out  our  salvation  in  fear  and  trembling! 
William*  will  have  told  you  of  mamma's  long  and  trying  ill- 
ness; she  is  getting  on  favourably,  and,  as  ever,  patient  and 

*  Captain  O'Shea. 
233 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

united  to  the  will  of  God.  I  can  scarcely  leave  her  for  an 
instant.  Last  Sunday  I  was  not  at  Mass  even.  On  the  Feast 
of  the  Ascension  I  was  able  to  go  to  St.  Augustine,  and  before 
doing  so  I  made  a  call  in  company  with  a  friend  at  a  house 
where  I  had  never  been  before,  and,  of  course,  shall  never 
be  again.* 

We  have  friends  from  Italy  at  present  staying  in  Paris, 
but  they  perfectly  understood  that  I  cannot  leave  my  dear 
mother,  and  do  not  expect  visits.  I  called  only  once  upon 
them,  but  they  came  here  Friday;  mamma  was  for  the  first 
time  able  to  sit  up,  and  Prince  and  Princess  Emmanuel  de 
Gonzaque  came  and  met  here  the  Bishop  of  Killaloe,  who 
inquired  most  kindly  for  you,  and  is  always  interested  about 
William,  to  whom  he  wrote  offering  his  tribute  of  sympathy, 
as  well  as  with  you,  on  the  death  of  your  dear  baby.  He 
had  not  since  heard  from  any  of  us,  as  I  could  neither  find 
time  for  letters  nor  for  going  out,  but  he  received  two  news- 
papers a  few  days  ago,  and  perfectly  understands  the  hurry 
of  busy  life  at  this  season  in  London.  I  have  had  these  last 
few  days,  that  my  dear  and  infinitely  precious  Malade  has  been 
better  and  somewhat  independent  of  my  constant  attention, 
to  seek  for  facilities  in  public  libraries  and  other  privileges 
for  dear  Ctesse.  de  Greppis  Abbe  —  I  have  partly  succeeded. 
Mamma  hopes  the  children  are  well.  Is  dear  little  Carmen 
strong .f^  And  her  amiable  and  devoted  sister  —  how  is  she.f^ 
We  hope  their  brother  is  in  perfect  health,  no  memory  even 
of  delicacy  still.  Doctors  say  the  temperature  has  been 
variable  all  this  month,  and  that  transition  from  heat  to  cold 
must  be  guarded  against. 

With  mamma's  love  and  kindest  wishes  for  your  health 

and  comfort,  and  prajdng  that  all  blessings  may  be  granted 

to  you  and  to  those  you  love,  with  her  kindest  feelings.  —  I 

remain,  dearest  Katie,  your  affectionate     Mary  O'Shea. 

*Miss  O'Shea  here  refers  to  the  house  of  the  Comte  de ,  to  whom 

she  was  then  engaged.  Miss  O'Shea  called  there,  with  her  friend,  to  break 
off  the  engagement  owing  to  her  continuous  ill-health.  She  died  not  very 
long  afterwards. 

234 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE    "kILMAINHAM    TREATY*' 

"Shall  I  say  stipulation.  King  ?  " 

"No,  Queenie,  he  prefers  *  suggestions  desirable  to  he  entertained  T  " 

Extract  from  an  Old  Diary. 

Parnell,  in  accordance  with  his  "parole,"  returned  to 
Kilmainham  at  the  end  of  the  term  of  leave  and  imme- 
diately formulated  the  conditions  of  the  arrangement 
it  was  proposed  to  make  with  the  Government.  The 
draft  of  this  historic  document  was  as  follows :  — 

"Kilmainham,  April  25th,  1882. 

"We  think  in  the  first  place  that  no  time  should  be 
lost  in  endeavouring  to  obtain  a  satisfactory  settlement 
of  the  arrears  question,  and  that  the  solution  proposed 
in  the  Bill  standing  for  second  reading  to-morrow  — Wed- 
nesday —  would  provide  a  satisfactory  solution,  though 
the  Church  Fund  would  have  to  be  supplemented  byagrant 
from  Imperial  resources  of  probably  a  million  or  so. 

"Next  as  regards  the  permanent  amendment  of  the 
Land  Act,  we  consider  that  the  rent-fixing  clauses  should 
be  amended  to  as  great  an  extent  as  is  possible,  having 
in  view  the  necessity  of  passing  an  Amending  Bill  through 
the  House  of  Lords;  that  leaseholders  who  have  taken 
leases  either  before  or  since  the  Act  of  1870  should  be 
permitted  to  apply  to  have  a  fair  rent  fixed,  and  that 
the  purchase  clauses  should  be  amended  as  suggested 
by  the  Bill,  the  second  reading  of  which  will  be  moved 
by  Mr.  Redmond  to-morrow. 

235 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

*'If  the  Government  were  to  announce  their  inten- 
tion of  proposing  a  satisfactory  settlement  of  the  arrears 
difficulty  as  indicated  above,  we  on  our  part  would 
make  it  known  that  the  No  Rent  manifesto  was  with- 
drawn, and  we  should  advise  the  tenants  to  settle  with 
their  landlords;  we  should  also  then  be  in  a  better  posi- 
tion than  we  ever  occupied  before  to  make  our  exertions 
effective  in  putting  a  stop  to  the  outrages  which  are 
unhappily  of  late  so  prevalent. 

"If  the  result  of  the  arrears  settlement  and  the  fur- 
ther ameliorative  measures  suggested  above  were  the 
material  diminution  of  outrages  before  the  end  of  the 
session,  and  the  prospect  of  the  return  of  the  country 
after  a  time  to  something  like  a  normal  condition,  we 
should  hope  that  the  Government  would  allow  the  Co- 
ercion Act  to  lapse,  and  govern  the  country  by  the  same 
laws  as  in  England." 

Willie  wrote  to  Gladstone  on  April  13th,  and  two 
days  after  Gladstone  replied  promising  to  communicate 
with  Forster.  The  rest  of  the  letter  was  taken  up  with 
compliments  to  Willie,  and  some  carefully -worded  phrases 
which  really  meant  that  Gladstone  was  prepared  to  go 
to  very  great  lengths  indeed  to  quiet  Ireland  and  to 
keep  her  quiet. 

Willie  sent  to  Chamberlain  a  copy  of  his  letter  to 
Gladstone.  Chamberlain  was  impressed  and  guarded. 
He  welcomed  negotiations,  but  pointed  out  that  if  the 
Government  were  going  to  smile  on  the  Irish  Party  the 
Irish  Party  must  smile  on  the  Government.  With  some 
amount  of  exaggerated  fervour  he  mooted  the  possi- 
bility of  an  anti-Irish  movement  comparable  with  the 
anti-Semitic  movement  abroad.  That,  he  pointed  out, 
would  be  bad  for  everybody,  and  accordingly  he  welcomed 

236 


THE  "KILMAINHAM  TREATY" 

the  olive  branch.  In  the  sequel,  of  course,  Chamberlain 
took  a  very  active  part  in  pressing  for  the  release  of 
Parnell. 

While  on  *' parole,"  and  after  his  return  from  Paris, 
Parnell  entered  into  communication  with  Mr.  Justin 
McCarthy  with  regard  to  the  proposed  "Treaty,"  and 
the  following  letter  was  written  from  Eltham :  — 

Saturday,  April  22,  1882. 
My  dear  McCarthy,  —  I  have  arrived  in  England,  and 
will  call  to  see  you  to-morrow  afternoon  some  time.  I  cannot 
at  present  give  you  the  exact  hour,  but  would  it  be  too  much 
to  ask  you  to  remain  at  home  after  three  o'clock.^  I  trust 
you  will  have  some  news  of  result  of  Cabinet  to-day.  —  Yours 
very  truly,  C.  S.  P. 

This  letter  was  followed  up  by  one  from  Kilmain- 
ham. 

{Confidential.) 

KiLMAINHAM, 

April  '25,  1882. 

My  dear  McCarthy,  —  I  send  you  a  letter  embodying  our 
conversation,  and  which,  if  you  think  it  desirable,  you  might 
take  the  earliest  opportunity  of  showing  to  Chamberlain. 

Do  not  let  it  out  of  your  hands,  but  if  he  wishes  you  might 

give  him  a  copy  of  the  body  of  it.  —  Yours  very  truly, 

Charles  S.  Parnell. 
(Enclosure.) 

The  enclosure  was  identical  with  the  draft  treaty  — 
apart  from  a  few  verbal  alterations  of  which  the  chief 
was  the  substitution  of  an  "Amendment  Bill"  for  an 
"Amending  Bill"  in  the  second  paragraph. 

*  4:  «  H:  *  4:  * 

237 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Tuesday,  April  25,  1882. 

My  own  Queenie,  —  I  enclose  you  a  letter.  What  do  you 
think  I  had  best  say  to  it?  * 

I  told  my  friend  in  Jermyn  Street  what  steps  to  take,  so 
that  the  matter  referred  to  in  enclosed  will  probably  go  on 
all  right  without,  or  with,  the  further  participation  of  the 
writer.  I  thought  of  writing  him  that  I  had  received  his 
note  too  late  to  reply  for  Wednesday,  but  that  in  any 
case  my  letter  from  Paris  ought  to  be  sufficient  indication 
of  confidence. 

I  missed  nine  train  on  Sunday  and  came  on  by  twelve, 
sleeping  at  Crewe  and  getting  on  board  mail  boat  before  mail 
train  arrived.  Everything  went  off  very  nicely  and  quietly, 
and  I  have  not  caught  any  cold  this  time.  O.  K.  had  aired 
my  bed  very  carefully,  etc.,  and  they  were  all  very  glad  to 
see  me  again,  with  the  exception  of  the  authorities. 

I  have  been  thinking  all  day  of  how  desolate  and  lonely  my 
Queenie  must  be  in  her  great  sorrow.  I  wish  so  much  that 
I  might  have  stayed  to  comfort  her,  but  I  have  indeed  every 
hope  and  confidence  that  our  separation  will  not  now  last 
very  long.  It  is  too  terrible  to  think  that  on  this  the  saddest 
dayt  of  all  others  —  and,  let  us  hope,  the  saddest  that  we  both 
shall  ever  see  again  —  my  Wifie  should  have  nobody  with 
her. 

Good-bye,  my  own  darling.  Your  loving  King. 

Mr.  Parnell  wrote  as  follows  to  Captain  O'Shea:  — 

Kilmainham, 

April  28. 
I  was  very  sorry  that  you  had  left  Albert  Mansions  before 
I  reached  London  from  Eltham,  as  I  had  wished  to  tell  you 
that  after  our  conversation  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  it 
would  be  proper  for  me  to  put  McCarthy  in  possession  of 
the  views  which  I  had  previously  communicated  to  you.     J 
*From  Captain  O'Shea  re  "Kilmainham  Treaty." 
t  The  day  of  our  little  daughter's  funeral. 

238 


THE  "KILMAINHAM  TREATY" 

desire  to  impress  upon  you  the  absolute  necessity  of  a  settle- 
ment of  the  arrears  question  which  will  leave  no  recurring 
sore  connected  with  it  behind,  and  which  will  enable  us  to 
show  the  smaller  tenantry  that  they  have  been  treated  with 
justice  and  some  generosity. 

The  proposal  you  have  described  to  me  as  suggested  in 
some  quarters,  of  making  a  loan,  over  however  many  years 
the  payment  might  be  spread,  should  be  absolutely  rejected, 
for  reasons  which  I  have  already  fully  explained  to  you.  If 
the  arrears  question  be  settled  upon  the  lines  indicated  by  us, 
I  have  every  confidence  —  a  confidence  shared  by  my  col- 
leagues —  that  the  exertions  which  we  should  be  able  to  make 
strenuously  and  unremittingly  would  be  effective  in  stopping 
outrages  and  intimidation  of  all  kinds. 

As  regards  permanent  legislation  of  an  ameliorative  char- 
acter, I  may  say  that  the  views  which  you  always  shared  with 
me  as  to  the  admission  of  leaseholders  to  the  fair  rent  clauses 
of  the  Act  are  more  confirmed  than  ever.  So  long  as  the 
flower  of  the  Irish  peasantry  are  kept  outside  the  Act  there 
cannot  be  any  permanent  settlement  of  the  land  question, 
which  we  all  so  much  desire. 

I  should  also  strongly  hope  that  some  compromise  might 
be  arrived  at  this  season  with  regard  to  the  amendment  of 
the  tenure  clauses.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  dwell  upon 
the  enormous  advantages  to  be  derived  from  the  full  extension 
of  the  purchase  clauses,  which  now  seem  practically  to  have 
been  adopted  by  all  parties. 

The  accomplishment  of  the  programme  I  have  sketched 
would,  in  my  judgment,  be  regarded  by  the  country  as  a 
practical  settlement  of  the  land  question,  and  would,  I  feel 
sure,  enable  us  to  co-operate  cordially  for  the  future  with 
the  Liberal  Party  in  forwarding  Liberal  principles;  so  that 
the  Government,  at  the  end  of  the  session,  would,  from  the 
state  of  the  country,  feel  themselves  thoroughly  justified  in 
dispensing  with  further  coercive  measures.  —  Yours  very  truly, 

C.   S.  Parnell. 

239 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

Saturdmj,  April  30,  1882. 
My  own  Queenie,  —  He*  came  over  to  see  me,  so  I  thought 
it  best  to  give  him  a  letter,  as  he  would  have  been  dreadfully 
mortified  if  he  had  had  nothing  to  show. 

Everything  is  going  very  well,  and  I  hope  will  continue 
straight. 

Received  two  letters  from  my  own  lovie  yesterday. 
Do,  my  own,  keep  up  as  much  as  you  can. 

Your  Own  King. 

I  had  reason  to  know,  from  various  sources  of  in- 
formation kept  open  by  me  on  Parnell's  behalf  during 
his  imprisonment,  that  the  Government  would  liberate 
him  with  considerable  relief  if  given  any  surety  of  con- 
ciliatory policy  on  his  part.  Parnell  at  liberty  was  a 
disturbing  force,  and  the  culminating  embarrassment 
of  English  government  in  Ireland,  but  Parnell  in  prison 
had  become  merely  a  concentrated  embarrassment  in 
that  there  was  now  no  governmental  possibility  of  deal- 
ing w^ith  the  reactionary  spirit  he  had  let  loose  in  Ire- 
land —  a  spirit  that  was  at  least  better  controllable  as 
a  weapon  in  Parnell's  hand  than  as  the  scattered  and 
absolutely  irresponsible  fulminations,  unreasoning  and 
motiveless,  of  lawless  desperadoes. 

With  Parnell  as  her  chief  the  Ireland  he  had  roused 
might  indeed  be  a  scourge  of  whips  to  the  British  Gov- 
ernment, but  without  him  this  Ireland  was  undoubtedly 
a  scourge  of  scorpions. 

So  Parnell  came  out  of  Kilmainham  on  the  treaty 
arranged  at  Eltham,  and  as  Willie  was  to  be  the  official 
bearer  of  the  olive  branch  to  the  Government,  he  went 
over  to  see  Parnell  on  his  return  to  Kilmainham  and 
to  get  from  him  a  letter  for  his  own  satisfaction,  as  he 
said  Parnell  was  "so  shifty"  he  could  not  be  trusted 

*Captain  O'Shea. 
240 


THE  "KILMAINHAM  TREATY" 

to  carry  out  any  agreement  that  was  not  in  writing,  and 
the  letter  was  to  set  forth  the  various  modifications  of 
his  pohcy  of  obstruction  that  he  would  undertake  to 
observe  on  his  (immediate)  liberation  and  assurance  of 
future  concessions  to  Ireland.  This  letter  had  in  sub- 
stance been  written  at  Eltham,  but  Parnell  had  stipu- 
lated for  a  few  days  to  consider  the  matter  further  and 
would  not  give  Willie  his  final  decision  then.  On  the 
other  side  he  had  to  consider  that  any  treaty  with  the 
Government  would  place  him  in  a  very  awkward  posi- 
tion with  the  Land  League  and  would  certainly  affect 
the  financial  aid  to  the  Irish  cause  so  generously  con- 
tributed by  America.  It  w^as  also  certain,  he  knew, 
that  the  Government  would  be  obliged,  in  either  case, 
to  liberate  him  with  the  other  Irish  political  prisoners 
at  no  distant  period,  and  this  without  his  placing  him- 
self under  any  obligation  at  all  to  the  Government.  This 
would  please  the  extreme  party  of  his  followers  far  better, 
even  though  it  would  keep  open  the  way  to  further  out- 
rage and  crime  in  Ireland. 

I  had  never  before  ventured  to  influence  Parnell  in 
any  way  politically;  but  now  I  greatly  dreaded  for  him 
this  latter  policy  of  the  extremists  and  the  perpetual 
strain  of  watchfulness  and  control  it  engendered  —  with 
the  Coercion  Laws  such  a  policy  must,  in  the  long  run, 
inevitably  produce,  unless,  indeed,  England  was  pre- 
pared to  yield  to  force;  an  unthinkable  proposition. 

So  now  I  threw  the  whole  strength  of  my  influence 
on  the  side  of  the  treaty  of  conciliation  and  urged  upon 
him  the  greater  good  for  Ireland  likely  to  accrue  in  the 
making  by  him  of  immediate  peace.  I  was  very  anx- 
ious that  he  should  "reign"  by  constitutional  means, 
and  had  every  hope  of  establishing  such  amicable  com- 
munications between  him  and  the  Government  as  would 

241 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

lead  to  that  end.  But  he  had  this  great  force  now  to 
reckon  with  —  the  force  of  centuries  of  cruelty,  wrong, 
and  oppression  that  had  bred  an  irresponsibility  and 
callous  disregard  of  suffering,  nay,  rather  a  vindictive 
madness  and  lust  of  destruction  in  Ireland.  In  his  seek- 
ing for  a  weapon  to  use  for  the  betterment  of  England's 
government  of  Ireland  Parnell  had  discovered  this  un- 
derlying force  of  hate,  and,  using  the  influence  of  his 
personality,  he  strove  to  direct  it  into  the  service  of 
the  Ireland  that  he  loved.  But  he  afterwards  stood 
appalled  at  the  intensity  of  the  passion  of  hate  that  he 
had  loosed,  and  no  one  but  he  —  and  I  with  him  — 
knew  the  awful  strength  of  that  force  of  destruction 
that  was  only  held  in  subservience  by  the  sheer  domi- 
nance of  his  will.  He  replied  to  my  pleadings:  "Yes,  I 
hold  them  now  with  my  back  to  the  wall,  but  if  I  turn 
to  the  Government  I  turn  my  back  to  them  —  and 
then ?" 

But  my  great  fear  for  him  won  his  decision  for  peace, 
and  he  wrote  and  signed  the  "letter"  that  Willie  wanted 
to  take  to  the  Government. 

The  Prime  Minister  had  been  prepared  for  its  coming, 
and  made  known  that  such  a  treaty  of  peace  would  be 
acceptable.  Willie  took  this  letter  to  Forster,  who  knew 
of  no  understanding  with  the  Prime  Minister  and  was 
absolutely  against  any  such  negotiations.  He  scoffed 
at  the  letter,  at  its  terms,  and  at  Willie  for  bringing  it, 
but  the  latter  pointed  out  that  the  matter  was  one  for 
the  Prime  Minister's  consideration  alone,  and  Mr.  Forster 
was  bound  to  submit  it  to  him  without  delay.  He  of 
course  did  so,  but  with  confidence  as  to  its  rejection 
and,  on  its  immediate  acceptance  and  the  liberation  of 
Parnell,  resigned  his  office  as  Chief  Secretary  for  Ire- 
land. 

242 


THE  "KILMAINHAM  TREATY" 

Lord  Cowper  resigned  with  him.  This  was  on  the 
2nd  of  May.  On  the  26th  of  April  discussion  on  Mr. 
Redmond's  Land  Bill  was  started  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. This  Bill,  which  had  been  drafted  by  Parnell 
in  Kilmainham,  proposed  to  amend  the  Land  Act  of 
1881  in  four  main  particulars:  (1)  Arrears  of  excessive 
rent;  (2)  admission  of  leaseholders  to  the  benefit  of  the 
Land  Court;  (3)  amendment  of  tenure  clauses;  (4)  ex- 
tension of  purchase  clauses  by  the  advance  from  the 
State  of  the  whole  of  the  purchase  money.  Mr.  Glad- 
stone applauded  the  Irish  Party  and  opposed  the  Bill. 
He  practically  admitted  that  recent  decisions  of  the 
Irish  judges  were  nullifying  the  effect  of  the  tenure 
clauses,  but  he  did  not  want  yet  to  reopen  the  question. 
He  recognised,  however,  the  necessity  of  dealing  with 
"Arrears." 

When,  on  May  2nd,  he  announced  to  the  House  the 
resignation  of  Lord  Cowper  and  Mr.  Forster  and  the 
decision  of  the  Cabinet  to  release  the  three  Irish  M.  P.'s 
who  had  been  in  Kilmainham  since  October,  he  definitely 
promised  an  Arrears  Bill,  and  stated  that  there  was  no 
present  intention  to  renew  the  Coercion  Act.  So,  with 
this  public  promise  of  Mr.  Gladstone,  and  with  the  tacit 
understanding  that  Parnell  would  "slow  down  the  agi- 
tation" Parnell  came  out  of  gaol.  "It  is  an  act," 
averred  Mr.  Gladstone,  "done  without  any  negotiation, 
promise,  or  engagement  whatever." 

Two  days  later  Forster  denounced  the  action  of  the 
Cabinet.  He  believed  that  the  unconditioned  release  of 
the  Irish  leaders  would  tend  to  the  encouragement  of 
crime.  As  he  went  on  to  justify  the  arrests  Parnell 
entered  the  House  and  took  his  seat.  The  Irish  cheered 
wildly.  Then  Forster  continued:  "The  real  reason  why 
these    gentlemen    were    arrested     .     .     .     was    because 

243 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

they  were  trying  to  carry  out  their  will  —  '  their  un- 
written law'  ....  by  working  the  ruin  and  the 
injury  of  the  Queen's  subjects  by  intimidation  of  one 
kind  or  another.  If  Mr.  Parnell  had  not  been  placed  in 
Xilmainham  he  would  very  quickly  have  become  in 
reality  what  he  was  called  by  many  of  his  friends  — 
the  King  of  Ireland."  He  did  not  say  Parnell  and  his 
friends  had  directly  incited,  what  they  had  done  was 
far  more  dangerous.  They  had  established  a  system 
of  intimidation.  .  .  They  should  have  been  released 
after  a  public  promise  had  been  given,  or  when  Ireland 
was  quiet,  or  fresh  powers  had  been  granted  to  the 
Government.  "A  surrender  is  bad,  a  compromise  or 
arrangement  is  worse.  ...  If  all  England  cannot 
govern  the  Member  for  Cork  then  let  us  acknowledge 
he  is  the  greatest  power  in  Ireland  to-day." 

Mr.  Gladstone,  in  reply,  said  he  had  no  right  to  hu- 
miliate Parnell  by  demanding  a  penitential  confession 
of  guilt,  and  once  more  he  disclaimed  that  the  release 
was  the  result  of  a  bargain.  Parnell,  following  him,  as- 
serted —  what  was  the  truth  —  that  no  mention  of  his 
release  was  made  by  him  in  any  written  or  oral  communi- 
cation with  his  friends. 

The  same  night,  May  4th,  was  announced  the  ap- 
pointment of  Lord  Spencer  as  Lord-Lieutenant  and  Lord 
Frederick  Cavendish  as  Chief  Secretary.  The  post  had 
first  been  offered  to  Sir  Charles  Dilke,  but  he  had  re- 
fused the  offer.  It  is  stated  that  in  certain  quarters 
the  name  of  Mr.  Chamberlain  had  been  mentioned,  and 
that  he  had  signified  his  willingness  to  accept  the  offer 
if  it  were  made.  Apparently  it  was  not  made.  We 
cannot  avoid  speculating  what  would  have  happened 
had  he  gone  to  Ireland.  He  had  taken  a  leading  part  in 
the  release  of  Parnell;  would  that  have  saved  him  — 

244 


THE  "KILMAINHAM  TREATY" 

since  the  Phoenix  Park  murderers  did  not  intend  to  kill 
Lord  Frederick?  And  if  Mr.  Chamberlain  had  been 
killed  in  May,  1882,  what  other  course  might  British 
politics  have  taken?  Would  Tariff  Reform  ever  have 
been  a  Tory  election  cry?  Would  there  have  been  no 
Boer  War?  Would  the  Tories  not  have  enjoyed  that 
long  term  of  office  which  for  years  kept  the  question  of 
Home  Rule  in  abeyance?  It  were  foolish  to  say  yes  or 
no  to  any  of  these  questions,  but  at  least  we  may  say 
that  the  fact  Mr.  Chamberlain  was  not  asked  to  become 
Irish  Secretary  in  1882  is  one  of  the  most  momentous 
in  British  politics. 

While  in  Kilmainham  Parnell  had  found  it  absolutely 
impossible  to  control  in  any  way  the  incitements  to 
crime  and  the  wild  expenditure  of  the  Ladies'  Land 
League.  His  sister,  Anna  Parnell,  was  at  the  head  of 
this  marvellous  organisation  which  she  spread  in  well- 
ordered  ramifications  throughout  the  country.  Her 
generalship  was  magnificent  and  complete,  and  there 
appeared  to  be  no  detail  of  this  revolutionary  army  with 
which  she  was  not  completely  familiar  and  completely 
determined  to  control.  Parnell  wrote  to  her  again  and 
again  from  prison,  pointing  out  the  crass  folly  of  the 
criminality  for  which  the  Ladies'  League,  now,  solely 
existed.  He  even  urged  the  Governmental  representa- 
tions made  to  him  for  the  suppression  of  this  league  of 
anarchy,  and  the  hopeless  financial  position  it  was  creat- 
ing —  the  estimated  weekly  expenditure  of  these  ladies 
running  into  thousands  of  pounds;  money  contributed 
chiefly  by  America  for  the  fighting  policy  of  the  Irish 
Party  —  but  to  no  purpose. 

The  fanatic  spirit  in  these  ladies  was  extreme;  in 
Anna  Parnell  it  was  abnormal,  and  Parnell  saw  no  way 
of  saving  her,  or  the  country,  from  her  folly  but  by  ful- 

245 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

filling  his  threat  of  vetoing  the  payment  of  another  penny 
to  the  Ladies'  Land  League.  This  he  then  did,  and 
thus  automatically  broke  up  this  wild  army  of  mer- 
cenaries. Anna  Parnell  never  forgave  her  brother  for 
this  act,  and  to  the  last  day  of  his  life  refused  to  hold 
any  communication  with  him  again.  Parnell  had  much 
family  affection,  and  many  times  made  overtures  of 
peace  to  his  sister,  of  whom  he  was  really  fond,  and  for 
whose  strength  of  mind  and  will  he  had  much  respect. 
On  two  occasions  he  met  her  accidentally  and  tried  to 
speak  to  her,  but  she  resolutely  turned  from  him  and 
refused  any  reply  to  the  letters  he  wrote  her. 

It  may  interest  my  readers  to  know  that  the  keys  of 
Kilmainham  Gaol  are  still  in  my  possession. 


246 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   PHCENIX   PARK   MURDERS   AND   AFTER 

"The  blood  more  stirs 
To  roiise  a  lion  than  to  start  a  hare" 

Shakespeare. 

On  Parnell's  release  from  Kilmainham  he  returned  to 
me  at  Eltham,  and  on  May  6,  1882,  went  to  Weymouth 
to  welcome  Michael  Davitt,  who  came  out  of  Portland 
prison  on  that  day.  He  returned  to  Eltham  that  Sat- 
urday evening,  and  the  next  morning,  Sunday,  I  drove 
with  him  to  Blackheath  Station,  as  he  had  to  go  to  Lon- 
don to  see  Davitt  and  others.  At  the  station  I  asked 
him  to  get  me  a  newspaper  before  he  left,  and  waited 
for  it  in  the  carriage. 

From  where  I  sat  in  the  carriage  I  could  see  Parnell's 
back  as  he  stood  just  inside  the  station  door.  I  was 
watching  him,  and  he  half  turned  and  smiled  at  me  as 
he  opened  the  paper  —  the  Sunday  Observer  —  to  glance 
at  the  news  before  he  brought  it  to  me.  He  told  me 
afterwards  that  he  wanted  to  see  what  was  said  about 
Michael  Davitt.  He  had  now  come  to  the  top  of  the 
steps  and,  as  he  suddenly  stopped,  I  noticed  a  curious 
rigidity  about  his  arms  —  raised  in  holding  the  news- 
paper open.  He  stood  so  absolutely  still  that  I  was 
suddenly  frightened,  horribly,  sickeningly  afraid  —  of  I 
knew  not  what,  and,  leaning  forward,  called  out,  "King, 
what  is  it.f^"  Then  he  came  down  the  steps  to  me 
and,  pointing   to    the  headline,  said,  "Look!"     And  I 

247 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

read,  "Murder  of  Lord  Frederick  Cavendish  and  Mr. 
Burke!" 

I  heard  the  train  coming  in,  and  tried  to  pull  my- 
self together,  for  the  awful  significance  of  the  horrible 
thing  to  my  lover,  just  released  from  Kilmainham  on 
the  Treaty,  came  home  to  me  with  a  rush  of  pain.  His 
face  was  ashen,  and  he  stared,  frowning  heavily,  before 
him,  unconsciously  crushing  the  hand  I  had  slipped  into 
his  until  the  rings  I  wore  cut  and  bruised  my  fingers. 

I  said  to  him,  "Quick,  you  must  catch  this  train. 
See  Davitt  and  the  others  as  arranged  and  as  many 
more  as  you  can  find.  Go,  you  will  know  what  to  do, 
but  you  must  meet  them  all  at  once."  He  turned  heavily 
away,  saying,  "I  shall  resign,"  and  I  answered  as  I  ran 
beside  him  to  the  platform,  "No,  you  are  not  a  coward." 

Before  I  left  Blackheath  I  wired  to  Willie  to  bring 
Parnell  to  dinner  at  Eltham  if  he  could  possibly  manage 
it,  and  spent  one  of  the  most  terrible  days  of  my  life 
considering  the  effect  this  awful  crime  would  probably 
have  upon  my  lover's  career. 

Willie  came  down  that  evening,  Parnell  with  him. 
They  were  both  very  gloomy  and  depressed,  and  Parnell, 
after  his  greeting  of  me  —  as  though  this  were  our  first 
meeting  since  he  came  out  of  prison  —  sat  gazing  stonily 
before  him,  only  glancing  across  at  Willie  with  the  stormy 
flare  in  his  eyes  when  the  latter  —  who  was  really  sorry 
for  Parnell,  as  well  as  shocked  at  the  murders  —  said 
something  that  jarred  upon  him.  During  dinner  Willie 
told  me  of  what  had  been  done  during  the  day,  of  the 
absolute  horror  and  consternation  of  the  Irish  Party, 
of  what  Mr.  Chamberlain  had  said  on  hearing  of  the 
murders,  and  of  Parnell's  continuous  threat,  through- 
out that  awful  day,  of  retiring  from  public  life  altogether. 

Willie  said  to  me:  "I  wish  you  would  urge  Parnell 

248 


THE  PH(ENIX  PARK  MURDERS 

not  to  talk  so,  Dick;  he  can't  resign  his  seat  now,  the 
thing's  impossible;  he  must  show  that  it  simply  does 
not  touch  him  politically  in  any  way." 

I  turned  to  Parnell  and  said:  "I  do  absolutely  agree 
with  Willie  about  it,  Mr.  Parnell.  It  would  be  throw- 
ing the  whole  country  over  and  a  reflection  upon  all 
who  joined  in  that  Treaty." 

Parnell  at  last  roused  himself  and  said:  "Well,  I  will 
write  to  the  G.  O.  M.*  and  offer  to  resign,  and  abide 
by  his  decision;  the  thing  makes  me  feel  hopeless  of  do- 
ing any  good." 

On  the  wall  of  the  dining-room  where  we  sat  hung  a 
large  engraving  of  the  "House"  of  1880.  All  the  mem- 
bers of  that  Parliament  were  in  the  picture,  and  among 
them,  of  course,  Mr.  Parnell  and  Captain  O'Shea.  As 
the  maid  turned  to  leave  the  room,  after  placing  the 
coffee  tray  on  a  little  side  table,  this  picture,  which  hung 
immediately  behind  Parnell,  fell  to  the  floor  with  a 
crash  that,  in  the  state  of  nervous  tension  we  were  all 
in,  brought  us  to  our  feet  in  alarm.  Willie's  chair  over- 
turned as  he  jumped  up;  but  Parnell's  was  stead3%  held 
in  a  grip  that  showed  his  knuckles  white  as  he  held  it 
slightly  raised  off  the  floor,  while  he  stood,  half  turned, 
staring  at  the  picture  as  it  lay  among  the  splintered 
glass. 

Willie  laughed,  and,  coming  to  help  the  parlourmaid 
to  pick  up  the  picture,  exclaimed:  "There  goes  Home 
Rule,  Parnell!"  But  he  also  had  in  him  a  slight  dash 
of  the  superstition  that  was  so  highly  developed  in  Par- 
nell's fatalistic  nature,  and  his  smile  turned  to  gravity 
as  he  glanced  at  Parnell's  tense  expression  and  listened 
to  my  hasty  explanation  of  the  fall:  "Perhaps  the  wire 
was  rotten,  or  the  maid  had  shaken  the  picture  as  she 

*  Gladstone. 
249 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

passed!"  Parnell  took  the  loose  end  of  the  wire  in 
both  hands  and  tried  to  break  it.  He  could  not.  Willie 
said:  "Mary  (the  parlourmaid)  was  the  other  side  of 
the  room,  so  she  could  not  have  shaken  it."  Parnell 
said  nothing,  and  we  began  to  speak  of  other  things. 

Afterwards  I  said  to  him:  "You  did  not  really  mind 
about  that  picture,  did  you?  It  was  only  a  rotten  wire!" 
and  he  answered:  "It  was  an  omen,  I  think,  darling, 
but  for  whom.'^  Willie  or  me.'^"  and  when  I  told  him  I 
wished  he  would  not  talk  such  nonsense,  and  that  I 
did  not  believe  in  omens  or  want  any  falling  pictures 
to  be  "omens"  for  either  of  them,  he  smiled  and  said 
no  more. 

The  immediate  consequence  of  the  Phoenix  Park 
murders  was  the  introduction  of  a  Crimes  Bill  by  Sir 
William  Harcourt  on  May  11th.  Parnell  was  not  ap- 
proached on  the  subject.  He  was  given  no  opportunity 
of  criticising  the  proposals  and  of  suggesting  any  more 
moderate  measure  which  might  have  appealed  to  that 
great  body  of  Irish  Nationalists  who  viewed  the  murders 
with  horror.  The  new  Bill  went  roughshod  over  Irish 
opinion,  and  the  conciliatory  effect  of  the  Arrears  Bill, 
introduced  a  few  days  later,  was  altogether  marred. 

On  May  15th,  1882,  there  was  a  scene  in  the  House 
about  the  Kilmainham  Treaty.  Mr.  Charles  Lewis 
asked  Mr.  Gladstone  to  produce  the  letters  which  were 
the  evidence  of  the  intentions  of  the  recently  released 
members.  Mr.  Gladstone  did  not  wish  to  produce  these 
letters,  but  saw  no  reason  why,  if  the  writers  and  those 
to  whom  the  letters  were  addressed  did  not  object,  the 
letters  should  not  be  produced.  Parnell  then  rose  and 
read  the  letter  he  had  given  to  Captain  O'Shea. 

Then  Lord  John  Manners  "must  ask"  if  this  was 
the  only  letter  received  by  the  Government;  to  which 

250 


THE  PH(ENIX  PARK  MURDERS 

the  Premier  returned  that  he  had  some  information  in 
addition  to  the  letter  (he  did  not  saj^  considerable  in- 
formation). Then  Mr.  Forster  had  his  little  revenge  in 
blandly  asking  if  Mr.  Parnell  had  read  the  wliole  of  the 
letter.  Parnell  replied  that  he  had  read  the  whole  of 
the  copy  given  him  by  Captain  O'Shea,  but  the  original 
had  another  paragraph  which  he  had  no  objection  to 
reading. 

Then  Captain  O'Shea  wanted  to  explain  the  whole 
circumstances.  Mr.  Forster,  still  smarting  under  the 
snub  to  him  of  ParnelFs  release,  would  not  play  up  to 
Mr.  Gladstone,  but  handed  Willie  the  letter  as  it  had 
been  given  to  him  to  take  to  Mr.  Gladstone.  Captain 
O'Shea  ran  his  eye  over  it,  and  handed  it  back  to  Mr. 
Forster  amid  laughter  from  the  Conservatives.  Mr. 
Forster  declined  to  take  back  the  letter,  and,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  Captain  O'Shea  read  it  through, 
including  the  paragraph  in  which  Mr.  Parnell  under- 
took that  in  the  circumstances  stated,  he  would  with  his 
party  co-operate  with  the  Liberals  in  forwarding  their 
principles  as  far  as  he  could. 

Then  a  member  wished  to  know  if  Mr.  Gladstone  had 
had  the  letter  in  his  possession  at  the  time  he  stated  that 
there  was  no  compact  between  the  Land  Leaguers  and 
the  Liberal  Party;  to  which  the  Premier  replied  that 
he  certainly  had,  and  that  he  again  and  emphatically 
repeated  the  statement. 

On  May  16th  Sir  Stafford  Northcote  began  to  heckle 
the  Government  again  upon  the  subject  of  the  Kilmain- 
ham  Treaty.  He  wanted  to  know  many  things,  and 
among  others  was  anxious  to  hear  if  Michael  Davitt 
was  released  as  a  condition  of  Mr.  Parnell's  support 
of  Liberal  principles.  Mr.  Gladstone  was  prepared  to 
answer  questions,  but  not  to  volunteer  statements.     No 

251 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

member  of  the  Government  had  had  interviews  with 
Mr.  Parnell  —  to  his  knowledge  —  and  there  was  no 
stipulation  as  to  the  release  of  Michael  Davitt  or  on  any 
other  subject.  Several  other  members  then  joined  in  the 
baiting  of  the  Premier,  but  without  other  result  than 
the  ruffling  of  that  old  eagle's  feathers. 

Mr.  Gibson  made  a  speech,  during  which  there  was  the 
unusual  scene  of  the  Premier's  rising  to  make  a  per- 
sonal statement  and  Mr.  Gibson's  refusing  to  give  way. 

The  Premier  sat  down.  The  Speaker  called  Mr.  Gib- 
son to  order  amid  uproar,  and  Mr.  Gibson  at  last  gave 
way  to  let  Mr.  Gladstone  get  his  protest  home. 

Mr.  Gladstone  declined  to  express  any  opinion  on 
Mr.  Forster's  conduct  in  bringing  before  the  House  a 
private  communication  received  by  him  as  a  Cabinet 
Minister  after  he  had  left  the  Cabinet.  Mr.  Gladstone 
was,  he  said,  in  no  better  position  to  pass  judgment 
upon  such  conduct  than  was  any  other  member  of  the 
House  —  a  comment  that  was  received  with  loud  cheers. 
Mr.  Forster  hastily  explained  that  he  would  not  have 
done  so  had  it  not  been  for  the  statement  of  Captain 
O'Shea.  Captain  O'Shea  promptly  rose  to  give  battle, 
but  was  suppressed  by  the  Speaker.  Mr.  Gladstone 
wanted  to  know  if  a  fair  statement  of  the  charge  against 
the  Government  was,  as  Mr.  Balfour  had  set  forth, 
that  Mr.  Parnell  was  to  obtain  his  release,  and  to  obtain 
legislation  as  to  arrears,  on  condition  that  he  would  obtain 
peace  for  the  Government  in  Ireland  and  give  the  Lib- 
erals support  in  the  House  with  his  party  .^  He  was 
answered  by  cheers  from  the  Opposition,  and  Mr.  Glad- 
stone turned  to  the  Speaker:  "May  I  say,  sir,  that  there 
is  not  one  word  of  truth  in  it  from  beginning  to  end.'*" 

Sir  William  Harcourt  made  a  speech  pointing  out 
the  inability  of  Mr.  Balfour  to  make  fair  comment  on 

252 


THE  PHCENIX  PARK  MURDERS 

the  matter  in  hand.  Branching  off,  he  then  answered 
Mr.  Gibson's  questions  to  his  own  satisfaction,  and  was 
followed  by  Lord  John  Manners,  who  was  loath  to  let 
the  matter  drop.  Mr.  Forster  again  complained  that 
it  wasn't  fair,  and  that  the  other  boy  began  it! 

After  other  intervention  Mr.  Chamberlain  tried  to 
soothe  all  sides  by  explaining  that  the  sentence  that 
was  not  in  the  copy  letter  read  by  Mr.  Parnell  was  not 
noticed  by  him  when  he  first  was  shown  the  original 
by  Captain  O'Shea,  and,  though  the  latter  gentleman 
had  asked  to  withdraw  that  sentence,  it  had  seemed  of 
so  little  importance  that  he  (Mr.  Chamberlain)  had 
really  not  noticed  it  was  omitted  when  Mr.  Parnell  read 
the  letter. 

Captain  O'Shea  here  intervened  with  a  very  telling 
little  speech,  in  which  he  made  it  quite  clear  that,  al- 
though he  was  not  well  up  in  the  etiquette  of  Cabinet 
Ministers,  he  had  had  a  fairly  long  acquaintance  with 
the  usages  of  gentlemen,  and  from  the  latter  point  of 
view  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Forster  on  the  previous  night 
was  most  extraordinary.  He  must  characterise  Mr.  For- 
ster's  conduct  as  "disloyal  to  his  old  friends  and  malig- 
nant to  his  old  enemies." 

The  second  reading  of  the  Arrears  Bill  was  moved 
by  Mr.  Gladstone  on  May  22nd.  In  the  course  of  his 
speech  he  said:  "Eviction  in  the  exercise  of  a  legal  right 
may  be  to  the  prejudice  of  your  neighbours,  may  in- 
volve the  highest  reprehension,  may  even  imply  deep 
moral  guilt.  There  may  be  outrages  which  —  all  things 
considered,  the  persons  and  the  facts  —  may  be  less 
guilty  in  the  sight  of  God  than  evictions." 

The  Bill  was  bitterly  opposed  by  the  Tory  Party. 

I  had  written  to  Mr.  Gladstone  expressing  a  wish 
that  he  should  see  Mr.   Parnell.     He  v/rote  in  answer 

253 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

from  Downing  Street  on  May  25th,  1882,  declining  to 
do  so  in  private,  though  in  pubUc  he  was  more  than 
ready  to  co-operate  with  Parnell. 

I  suggested  in  reply  that  we  should  meet  and  talk 
the  matter  over,  and  it  was  arranged  that  he  should 
come  to  see  me  at  Thomas's  Hotel  on  June  2nd.  He 
arrived  punctually  at  three  o'clock.  We  had  a  long 
talk  about  Parnell  and  about  politics  —  chiefly,  of  course, 
as  referring  to  Ireland.  He  was  extremely  agreeable 
and  courteous,  and  I  remember  very  well  the  great 
charm  of  manner  he  possessed,  a  charm  that  struck  me 
afresh  at  each  subsequent  meeting.  A  natural  charm 
and,  no  doubt,  a  natural  insincerity,  but  one  which  is 
such  an  immense  asset  in  the  career  of  a  great  man: 
that  of  making  others  believe  —  or  wish  to  believe  — 
that  they  are  on  the  same  plane  of  intellect  and  diplo- 
macy as  himself!  He  was  a  very  great  old  man,  I 
thought,  as  his  wonderful  eagle's  eyes  showed  just  suffi- 
cient admiration  in  them  to  savour  of  homage  without 
offence.  And  I  may  say  here  that,  with  all  the  perfect 
courtesy  of  which,  when  he  chose,  he  was  past  master, 
he  knew  before  the  conclusion  of  our  interview,  and 
allowed  me  to  know  that  he  knew,  what  I  desired  that 
he  should  know  —  that  my  personal  interest  in  Parnell 
was  my  only  interest  in  Irish  politics. 

Mr.  Gladstone  having  agreed  that  it  would  be  of  con- 
siderable convenience  to  the  Government  to  be  in  pri- 
vate and  amicable  communication  with  Mr.  Parnell, 
and  that  I,  whose  interests  were  inseparable  from  those 
of  the  Irish  leader,  would  be  confidently  accepted  as 
such  intermediary  by  him,  we  parted  satisfied,  I  think, 
on  both  sides  with  the  afternoon's  compact. 

After  this  first  interview  with  Mr.  Gladstone  I  had 
frequently  to  see  him  at  Downing  Street  —  taking  him 

254 


THE  PHCENIX  PARK  MURDERS 

drafts,  clauses,  and  various  proposed  amendments  (of 
Bills  affecting  Ireland)  that  Parnell  proposed,  altered, 
and  suggested  privately  to  Gladstone  before  putting  them 
before  the  House.  Parnell,  of  course,  always  intent  on 
the  betterment  of  the  law  as  affecting  Ireland;  Glad- 
stone bargaining  for  the  Irish  vote,  when  without  it  he 
would  have  lost  his  majority. 

Parnell  would  sometimes  write  the  rough  draft  of 
what  he  wished  Gladstone  to  know,  or  sometimes  write 
what  he  had  to  say  in  the  form  of  a  letter  (often  dating 
if  from  my  house!),  but  occasionally  he  would  do  neither, 
as,  on  more  than  one  important  occasion,  he  said:  "I 
don't  trust  that  Grand  Old  Spider  farther  than  I  can 
see  him.  Sweetheart,  learn  this  by  heart,  and  let  it 
off  at  him  yourself."  Then  I  had  to  take  down  in  my 
own  handwriting  what  he  wished  proposed  to  Glad- 
stone, and  at  the  subsequent  interview  "let  it  off"  at 
him.  Very  often  letters  were  sufficient,  and  in  this  case 
I  almost  invariably  wrote  them,  or,  if  the  letter  was 
in  Parnell's  handwriting  addressed  to  me,  under  cover 
of  my  envelope,  I  would  request  its  return,  and  this  was 
done;  letters  intended  for  Parnell  by  Gladstone  being  in- 
variably addressed  to  me. 

It  was  by  my  suggestion  Mr.  Gladstone  opened  these 
private  negotiations  with  Mr.  Parnell,  and  I  was  myself 
much  amused  to  find  that  both  these  great  statesmen 
were  of  one  mind  as  to  the  danger  of  such  a  trusting  of 
one  another  as  such  negotiations  necessitated.  When 
I  said  to  Parnell,  "Whj^  not  see  Gladstone  yourself 
privately,  and  get  what  you  can  from  him,  in  return  for 
the  Irish  vote?"  he  at  once  replied  that  such  a  proceed- 
ing would  be  fatal  to  the  "cause,"  and  when  I  said  much 
the  same  thing  to  Gladstone  at  our  first  interview  — 
which  latter  was  a  brilliant  inspiration  of  Parnell's  own 

^55 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

—  he  replied  that  "such  a  proceeding"  would  be  fatal 
to  his  position,  but,  he  added,  "it  might  be  advantageous 
to  the  Irish  leader  and  myself  if  you,  Mrs.  O'Shea, 
would  accept  the  thankless  office  of  go-between,  as  you 
suggest.  A  safe  and  secret  intermediary  might  well 
prove  to  be  of  the  greatest  assistance  to  us  both  in  our 
efforts  for  the  welfare  of  the  country."  I  have  won- 
dered since  which  country  the  G.  O.  M.  had  in  his  mind 
as  he  spoke. 

On  June  17th  and  18th,  1882,  Gladstone  wrote  to  me. 
The  letter  of  the  17th  was  little  more  than  a  formal 
acknowledgment,  but  in  his  note  of  the  following  day 
he  referred  me  to  something  which  had  passed  at  our 
last  interview.  He  had  on  that  occasion  directed  my 
attention  to  the  proposal  to  amend  certain  severe  clauses 
of  the  Crimes  Act. 

Meanwhile  the  Irish  were  fighting  the  Crimes  Bill 
inch  by  inch.  It  had  been  read  a  second  time  on  May 
25th  after  three  nights'  debate.  The  most  drastic  clause, 
from  the  legal  point  of  view,  was  the  suspension  of  the 
right  of  trial  by  jury  in  all  grave  cases  of  agrarian 
crime,  which  (and  the  Government  would  decide  when) 
would  be  tried  by  a  Court  of  three  judges,  in  such  dis- 
trict as  the  Attorney-General  might  decide.  Public 
meetings  could  be  proclaimed  and  newspapers  suppressed. 
The  police  were  vested  with  power  to  search  private 
houses  and  arrest  night  wanderers.  Finally,  and  against 
this  the  Irish  Party  especially  protested  • —  magistrates 
were  empowered  to  convict  summarily  on  charges  of 
incitement,  boycotting,  and  membership  of  a  secret 
society. 

This  was  the  iron  heel  with  a  vengeance;  it  took  from 
the  Irish  the  last  vestige  of  citizen  right.  Parnell  op- 
posed, yet  not  violently ;  the  remembrance  of  the  Phoenix 

256 


THE  PHOENIX  PARK  MURDERS 

Park  murders  held  him  back.  But  the  speeches  of  his 
followers  were  bitter  in  the  extreme.  "What  profit," 
cried  Dillon,  "can  you  ever  expect  from  governing  a 
nation  which  nothing  conciliates,  and  nothing  can  sub- 
due.^ "  Of  all  the  fifty  Coercion  Acts  passed  in  the  eighty- 
eight  years  since  the  Union  this  was  the  worst. 

The  second  reading  was  carried  by  383  votes  against 
45. 

Parnell  expressed  a  desire  that  Gladstone  should  have 
his  (Parnell's)  views  distinctly  put  before  him  by  me 
—  not  in  writing.  This  did  not  suit  Gladstone.  He 
had  no  intention  of  giving  away  his  hand  in  regard  to 
the  Crimes  Bill,  and,  in  the  then  temper  of  his  own 
Party  and  of  the  Conservatives,  was  not  at  all  desir- 
ous of  making  any  further  private  concession  that  would 
certainly  place  him  in  a  too  favourable  light  (as  regards 
this  Bill)  in  the  eyes  of  the  Irishmen. 

He  was  determined  not  to  see  me  again  with  refer- 
ence to  the  Crimes  Bill,  and  on  June  23rd  he  wrote 
me  to  that  effect.  It  was  obvious  from  the  tone  of 
his  letter  that  he  was  annoyed  by  the  continued  oppo- 
sition of  the  Irish  Party,  which,  from  his  point  of  view, 
only  served  to  imxpede  the  progress  of  the  Arrears  Bill. 

On  one  of  my  visits  to  Downing  Street  I  told  Glad- 
stone of  the  inner  vvorking  of  the  Ladies'  Land  League, 
about  which  he  was  curious.  I  mentioned  to  him  the 
enormous  sum  these  Lady  Leaguers  had  expended  and 
the  great  difficulty  Parnell  had  had  in  suppressing  them. 
On  hearing  the  sum  of  their  estimated  weekly  expendi- 
ture a  grim  smile  flitted  over  his  face.  "  Very  satis- 
factory," he  remarked,  "as  the  ladies  have  evidently  put 
these  large  sums  beyond  the  power  of  —  of  the  Land 
League's  expenditure!" 

Gladstone  would  not  sit  still  when  he  talked  to  me, 

257 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL 

but  liked  to  pace  up  and  down  the  long  room  with  me. 
On  my  entry  he  would  rise  from  his  desk  to  greet  me 
and,  solemnly  handing  me  a  chair,  would  walk  down 
the  room  to  the  door  at  the  end,  which  was  always  open 
when  I  entered,  close  it  firmly  and,  pacing  back  to  the 
door  of  my  entry,  push  it.  These  preparations  always 
made  me  smile  —  a  smile  in  which  he  joined  as,  coming 
up  to  me  and  offering  me  his  arm,  he  said:  "Do  you 
mind  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  I  talk  better  so." 
So  we  paced  up  and  down  while  I  voiced  Parnell's  in- 
structions and  listened  to  the  G.  O.  M.'s  views,  inten- 
tions, and  tentative  suggestions,  always  on  my  part 
keeping  to  "It  is  considered  that,  etc.,"  in  giving  Par- 
nell's point,  and  always  receiving  "Your  friend  should, 
etc.,"  or  "I  am  prepared  to  concede  to  your  friend,  etc., 
in  return." 

He  was  so  careful  in  this  regard  that  one  day  I  said: 
"What  is  it  you  shut  up  in  that  room,  Mr.  Gladstone, 
when  I  come  to  see  you.f^" 

"Persons,  or  a  person,  you  do  not  come  to  see,  Mrs. 
O'Shea.  Only  a  secretary  or  so,  and  occasionally,  in 
these  times  of  foolish  panic,  detectives.  No,"  in  an- 
swer to  my  look  of  inquiry,  "no  one  can  overhear  a 
word  we  say  when  we  pace  up  and  down  like  this,  and, 
as  you  do  not  mind  it,  it  refreshes  me." 

Always  as  I  stood  face  to  face  with  this  Grand  Old 
Man  on  leaving,  and  looked  into  his  slate-coloured  eyes, 
so  like  those  of  an  eagle,  I  experienced  a  sudden  un- 
easy feeling,  in  spite  of  his  gracious  courtesy,  of  how 
Hke  to  a  beautiful  bird  of  prey  this  old  man  was:  with 
the  piercing,  cruel  eyes  belying  the  tender,  courteous 
smile,  and  how,  relentless  as  an  eagle,  men  like  this  had 
struck  and  torn  their  victims.  But  to  me,  personally, 
he   always   showed    the   marvellous    charm    of   manner 

258 


THE  PHCENIX  PARK  MURDERS 

which  sent  me  away  feeling  that  I  was  at  least  a  com- 
pelling force  in  the  great  game  of  politics  and  worthy 
of  the  place  I  held. 

The  political  history  of  this  time  has  been  written 
many  times,  and  from  various  points  of  view,  and  in 
this  book  I  do  not  propose  to  repeat  it,  but  only  to 
record  such  point  or  detail  as  at  the  time  affected  my 
King  in  his  home  life. 


END   OF   VOL.    I. 


259 


DATE  DUE 


UNIVERSn  i  PHOUUCTS,  INC.    #859-5503 


BOSTON  COLLEGE 


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